The Crows of Lamb
by R.K. Wesley
Summary: There is a saying: we're not afraid of the dark, we're afraid of what's in the dark. However, sometimes it's better to hide in the dark. (The London Crow Chapters 1-25 & The Crows of Lamb Chapters 26-)
1. Chapter 1: The London Crow

IT WAS COLD—cold beyond any human notion. It was dark and the only things lit were streetlights. Fog covered the landscape and it was thick enough that nothing could see through it. A common sight for the little town of Sherwood, with that, few ever treaded outside in the night.

Only one ever desired to tread in the night. An imposing figure to those that witness, but ever so silent that no one knows what goes through his eyes.

No one knows when the Plague Doctor came to Sherwood or even why. He appears only at night and by dawn he disappears into the unknown.

He always appears in Sherwood Alley, populated by the homeless. Those that meet him recieve supplies without so much as a glance and moves on to the others. Many have tried to speak with him, but failed to get any response. On cold nights, or when there has been violence, he stayed with the homeless until just before dawn.

The Plague Doctor appeared in the alley. A warm fire started in an empty barrel welcomed those as they clamored around it. An older woman huddled near it smiled as the Plague Doctor moved over to her with a bag of food. She said to him, "Have you heard?"

The Plague Doctor didn't respond. The woman continued. "The great detective Sherlock solved another case."

A man nearest to the fire pointed at them and said, "What's so great about 'im?"

"He's solved dozens of crimes," the woman smiled. The Plague Doctor stood there silent.

"You act as if he'd come here to our alley," the man snorted. The woman shook her head. "He might, I heard from a friend that he's been hiring people like us to be his eyes and ears," she said to him. The man chuckled, "Oh please, like that's going to happen to us!"

"Oh, I do believe it's going to happen," the woman continued to smile. The Plague Doctor turned and addressed the others, handing out blankets and food. The woman looked past another toward him, "I think you ought to meet Sherlock. I hear he's quite the showman."

"Oh please woman, Sherlock won't even think about the idea," the man swatted the air.

Another man chuckled, "I don't think Sherlock's going to lumber around looking for our friend here, Floyd."

"He might," Floyd said. The woman looked at the men, "Well, it'll be nice if our friend can get some recognition for his work."

"Pat, I don't think he wants attention," the other man said to her. "Fred's right, our friend does well. No need for him to get into the limelight if he doesn't want to," Floyd nodded. Pat sighed and looked at the Plague Doctor as he moved up and down the alley. He stopped at the end of the alley and turned around and looked pleased before returning to the fire. He stopped just a short from the barrel and glanced up. His silver eyes that were somewhat illuminated from the fire. He lowered his head to the people surrounding the barrel and Pat gave a warm smile to him.

"You want to look about, don't you? It's okay, we can take care of ourselves for the time being," she said to him. Not even giving a nod, the Plague Doctor turned from the barrel and walked out of the alleyway and into the open area. The clouds rolled in, the snow falling down, coating the cowl. The bronze mask illuminated by the neon lights as he walked, as his eyes continued to stare straight.

He stopped in front of a teashop and looked up to the skies again, the moon was not in sight and in place were clouds. Flying in the distant was a black speck and the Plague Doctor watched as he held his right arm outreach. A raven perched itself on his arm and looked up at him with its amber eyes. It cawed at him and hopped onto the right shoulder where it nuzzled its beak against the masks'. The Plague Doctor stopped in front of a bakery where at his feet was a newspaper. The raven flew down from the shoulder and pecked at it until it had a firm grasp on it. It began to hover in front of the Plague Doctor with the newspaper hanging from its beak.

The Plague Doctor reached for the newspaper and the raven went back to perching on the shoulder again. On the front page, there was an article surrounding London's finest detective: Sherlock Homes. The Plague Doctor tilted his head, the raven peering at the picture of the detective. The raven cawed, and the Plague Doctor looked up to the skies.

As if it known, after studying the picture, the raven flew off his shoulder and into the skies. The Plague Doctor dropped the newspaper and moved on. The newspaper crumpled, showing the detective's face as it became covered with snow. In the distant, the raven cawed into the unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

It was another morning at 221B Baker Street, with the skies darkening with clouds. To the inhabitant, it was a _boring_ morning. Scratching his head of hair while holding his cup in another, Sherlock contemplated. He contemplated a lot; it was his obsession, well, one of them. He hated it, _absolutely_, hated this morning. No new cases and there wasn't anything interesting from the police for him to involve in. So, it was a _boring_ morning. He shuffled up and down the flat, sometimes stopped for a minute to glance at the time. He stopped when the clock struck seven and checked his phone. There was nothing for him. Sherlock thought about his brother, how he could bug him for something to do. Yet, Mycroft was out of town, gone to the States, Sherlock didn't bother listening. There wasn't anything happening, because if there was then he'd get a text or a call. John went to Dublin, so there went his other plan. Oh, and the landlady Hudson wasn't around either. So, it was just Sherlock and he hated it.

He combed his website, for cases for him to solve, but that didn't help him either. Nothing intrigued him and nothing new posted. Sherlock went about the room afterwards, playing his violin. He continued until he swore he heard his phone going off. Like a child on Christmas morn, he dove for his phone. What waited him was Mycroft having a bit of fun: "Bored, brother?"

Sherlock scorned the screen, as the text stared at him. It was normal for Mycroft to do this, and it didn't help the fact that he also knew what Sherlock knew. Sherlock fired a response and sat his phone down. His response was: "No, but I suppose you are?"

Sherlock continued to play the violin. He stopped after the clock struck ten, then his phone went off again. He glanced, and it was from Lestrade. A murder occurred and he asked if Sherlock could come to the scene in Sherwood, a small town north of London. Elated, Sherlock spun around the room exclaiming, "Oh thank god… I was getting bored."

He readied fast and made haste to the outside where he hailed a cab. Upon arrival to the Bones Alley, he met with Anderson and the rest who eyed him from afar. They were surrounding the evidence strewn on the street that lead into the alley where the body was. Sherlock met with Lestrade who gave a look. Sherlock noticed and shrugged, "I'm bored."

"Of course you were," Lestrade said and led Sherlock to the crime scene. A man was facing down with pools of blood under him. He wore a grey suit, expensive, and suede shoes scuffled. Shot, with the gunshot wound in the chest cavity and it appeared the bullet didn't exit. The man wasn't from Sherwood, he came from London. He was a businessman for the local stocks, Sherlock finding his business cards. He was also married, with his ring found in his breast pocket. It looked nothing more than a robbery gone wrong; yet none of the money or belongings was missing . Murder in cold blood was another option. Sherlock smiled like a child as he looked at the body, information appearing out of nowhere. It continued until Sherlock had enough and said, "Send him off, won't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," he heard them say.

With that, Sherlock departed from the scene and as he did, he stopped under a sign for a coffeehouse. Glancing up there was a raven looking down. Its neck stretched out for Sherlock to see its eyes, amber in color but looked brown from afar. It cawed at him and Sherlock tilted his head, confused. The raven tilted its head in return. Done staring, the raven took off, cawing as it took flight. Sherlock blinked and muttered under his breath, "Interesting."

Sherlock looked inside the coffeehouse through the storefront, small and family owned. He concluded the man who had died came into it before his death. Entering, he went up to the counter to meet with the youngest of the generation. He asked, "Did a businessman come here late last night?"

"Could you be more specific, sir?" the woman stared at him. Sherlock gritted his teeth, "Did a man in a gray suit, suede shoes, and gelled hair come in late last night?"

"Oh," the woman blinked before nodding. "Yeah him, he was _so_ angry. He stormed in here with the biggest attitude and was screaming on the phone."

"What about..?" Sherlock eyed her. She shrugged and responded, "He was auguring about stocks, that's about it."

"Did you see anyone suspicious afterward?" the woman shifted in her spot, her flowing locks of burgundy hair flowed to her right shoulder. "No, no one came in or left after he came," the woman shook her head. She stopped and remembered something, "Although, there was someone."

"Who," Sherlock looked at her. The woman shrugged, "It was dark and I couldn't see. Someone was walking past the storefront; he was tall, walking in the same direction."

"Anything else, anything more than height..?" Sherlock looked at her. She shrugged again before remembering again. "I swear he had a… a beaked nose. A _long_ beaked nose," the woman watched as Sherlock mumbled under his breath. Content, Sherlock bowed his head and walked out of the coffeehouse. He went through his phone. He texted John the details before walking in the same direction. He glanced around as he did what would a businessman go to after having coffee?

He stopped and looked up to see a bakery. Entering inside, he found the cashier dolling out change. His mole eyes moved to meet Sherlock's, and the man smiled. "How may I help you, sir?" said the man. Sherlock asked, "Did a businessman come in late last night?"

"Gray suit, nasty attitude?" the man gestured. Sherlock nodded. The man groaned, rubbing his thinning hair. "That man was impossible!" he bemoaned. Sherlock watched as the man went to the case and grabbed for a pastry to give to a customer. "He came in with, yelling into his phone. "I told you, stocks go _up_ not down!" was what he said. And it didn't help he was a poor customer. Bloke couldn't wait a damn minute for me to grab a pastry for him."

"Did you see another man… a tall man—taller than me, come around?" Sherlock asked. The man was almost surprised. "He didn't kill him," the man said. Sherlock blinked before asking, "Who didn't kill him?"

"He's a saint amongst those less fortunate. He wouldn't hurt a fly," the man responded.

"Pardon my da, he's a bit of a superstitious man," a woman appeared from the kitchen with a tray of baked pastries. Sherlock looked at her and asked her,"Who is he talking about and did he come around here?"

"The businessman went to the office on the corner of Oak Street," the woman stated. "He yelled that into the phone."

"So, there was no tall man coming around after the businessman came here?" Sherlock eyed her. It was obvious she was lying and Sherlock was pressing for answers. She shook her head, "Nope."

Disappointed, Sherlock left the bakery and followed the signs toward Oak Street. He found an accountant's office. His beady eyes looked up at Sherlock's as he typed on the computer as Sherlock stood at the desk. "Here for consulting?" asked the man. "No, answers for a murder case," Sherlock said. The man winced and nodded, "Right, right, the oaf of a man found dead."

"I take it you two weren't friendly?" Sherlock asked him. The man sighed and rubbed his eyes, exhaling before he finally replied. "Yeah, Jim wasn't exactly a saint. He's a businessman for some high-end business in London. He came here to sear me some more over some "accounting errors". Oi, he was a pain. It didn't help he came in all angry like. The stocks for his business was flat lining and he was pressing his assistant to find a way to bring them back up."

"What accounting errors?" Sherlock looked as the man typed on the keyboard. He pointed at the screen, following the lines until he stopped. "Somehow, thousands misplaced. I swear, I had no part in that sort. His assistant was a weasel though—I liken him to Greed itself."

Sherlock remembered. "Did a tall man—taller than me—come this way?" he asked. The man shrugged, "Oh yeah, him. Yeah, he comes this way time to time. I saw him go through Kinsman Alley outside my office."

"Was he present around the time Jim was here?" Sherlock watched the man stretch out his arms. "You might find that the townsfolk liken him to a spirit," the man replied as he rolled his eyes. He sighed and added, "Jim went to the local watering hole just down a block from here. The tall man just went through the alley."

"Is there anything in the alley?" Sherlock asked. The man blinked, "Nothing that I know, then again it's all interconnected, the alleys. He could've gone elsewhere for all I know."

Sherlock bid farewell and left for the local pub. He met with the bartender who introduced himself as Norman. "Yeah, he came here. He was a pain in the bloody arse! One wrong thing and he went off. It didn't help that he was low on cigarettes. He was worse when he had only two left," Norman cleaned a glass as he talked to Sherlock. Sherlock nods and asks, "Was there a man-a tall man, taller than me-who came around?"

Norman shook his head. "No, no one like that. Look, the bloke went to get more cigarettes from the convenience store."

Sherlock sighed as he departed from the pub and checked his messages. John had just came back from his meeting and was asking about the case. Sherlock requested him to come immediately. John responded with an ETA of his arrival. Sherlock stopped again and looked up to see what looked like the same raven from before. It looked down from the hanging sign for a pharmacy; Sherlock raised a brow to the sight. Its amber eyes was looking into his, leaving Sherlock to wonder if the bird was looking at him. He mused to himself that perhaps it couldn't have been the same raven as before—this one was smaller. The raven flew off and Sherlock continued toward the convenience store. Sherlock bowed his head and looked at Ruby, the cashier. She smiled and asked him, "May I help you sir?"

"Yes, did a man in a gray suit come in last night?" Sherlock replied. Ruby frowned and nodded, "Yeah that bastard."

"What was he doing?" Sherlock continued. Ruby shifted in her spot before sighing. "He came in with a big attitude. His stocks were going south and he was yelling at I guess someone from his office to take care of it. He comes in, yells at me to get some packs of cigarettes," she said. Sherlock blinked, "Was there a tall man—taller than me—that might've come this way?"

Ruby blinked and crossed her arms. "Yeah, he was a pretty tall. He comes in here a lot with the homeless to buy supplies. He was here last night. He had to put up with the bastard, the poor man," she sighed. Sherlock nods, "Did anything happen?"

"Well, the tall man came in to buy usual supplies—he had two people with him, homeless people. They were grabbing for things and the man just grabbed for the blankets we had on sale. They get up to the cash register when Big Nasty came in and cut in line. The tall man didn't make a big deal of it, but the two people with him did. The Big Nasty turned around and was about to say something but he shut his trap when the tall man looked down at him. He paid for cigarettes and buggered off. The tall man paid for the lot's groceries and left with the two people," Ruby explained. Sherlock nodded. "What did this tall man look like?" Sherlock asked. Ruby shifted in her spot again and chewed on her bottom lip. "Well, I don't know how to even describe him," she admits.

Sherlock shook his head and asked again, "What did he look like?"

"Well, sir, to be honest with you, he wore a costume, I think it was a costume," Ruby pondered. Sherlock eyed her as she continued to describe the tall man. "He… he wore one of those costumes—the one with the beak mask," she tried to describe. Sherlock already pieced together what she was saying. A plague doctor costume, an oddity, and it made Sherlock curious. "Was there anything about him?" Sherlock continued. Ruby nodded. "His eyes are odd, they looked pure silver," said Ruby as she fixed her apron. Sherlock nodded. Before he could leave, Ruby said something peculiar. "Have you seen the ravens in this town? Something about them… they're different than any that I have ever seen before."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked her. Ruby blinked, "The ones that follow people around. The ones that have amber eyes, and they've been stalking about for a good while."

"They're just being animals," Sherlock shrugged. Ruby shook her head, "They say around here that these ravens belong to the tall man. Now that I mention it, these ravens didn't show up until he did."

"Pets," Sherlock reasoned. Ruby shook her head again, "I have seen ravens, sir. These aren't any ravens that I ever encountered, pets or not."

Sherlock exited and stared at John who looked rather displeased with him. "I was asking where you were," John said, disgruntled. Sherlock shrugged, "Where would I be, John?"

"On the moon," John uttered under his breath and cleared his throat. Sherlock smirked at him, an igneous idea came to mind that would be perfect. John noticed and frowned. "There's been a talk about a tall man—taller than me—roaming about. He's known to wear the plague doctor uniform. But, I am too keen on solving the businessman's murder. Perhaps you can go about and see what that entails," Sherlock said as he passed John. John stopped and eyed him, "You want me to look for a plague doctor?"

"Yes, John. And ask around about the ravens, the ones with amber eyes. Make sure you check the records of any ravens bought or the like," Sherlock looked at him. John blinked, "And why would I be looking into a man who dresses like a plague doctor and a flock of ravens?"

"He could be a suspect," John heard Sherlock said as he disappeared behind a building. John sighed and shook his head. He stopped and looked up to see a raven look down at him from a post, its amber eyes staring into his. The raven cawed into the distant and flew off, disappearing over a business. John winced; he glanced to see an empty sidewalk, before glancing back at the post. He chewed on his lips, "Bloody hell."

With that, John tried to find answers about a tall man who fancied wearing the plague doctor outfit. Oh, and the ravens, too.


	3. Chapter 3

It was normal for John to look into something. Sherlock was never known for focusing on many things at once. Only if it was important would he ever focus on more than one aspect. But, this was a new one for John. Accustomed to sneak into homes and what have you, John was. But this took the case for being something that never happened before.

Indeed, John and Sherlock had seen things a lot during their time as the Dynamic Duo. Just last month, they caught a rather popular parliament member's son wearing drag. They were looking for clues involving a homicide. Yet, John questioning about a man in costume and a flock of birds was a new one, even for him.

John sucked it up. He hated it already, but he reminded himself who he worked with. Sherlock was someone who would never leave stones unturned. Even if John was unwilling to go through the efforts, he would force him into it somehow. Through trickery or reverse psychology that is associated with Sherlock. John would muddle through the case whether he liked it or not.

John already regretted getting on the plane.

It was strange for John to ask these nonsense questions. All likewise, it made him look idiotic. To be frank, he's accustomed to the looks given in his situation. Yet, he was trying to be a professional when he went about it.

And it didn't help that he was seeing the ravens looking his way. He tried everything in his power to avoid looking at them. He tried to reason that the ravens were being ravens, nothing more. After all, he was wearing rather shiny silver Rolex that Mary bought him last Christmas. Ravens were no strangers in thieving. John rather hoped that the ravens were only interested in the Rolex. But the responses he got from people, say otherwise.

"Oh yeah, the ravens," he heard a woman murmur as she juggled her two-year old in her arms. "They're rather odd; they like to stare at people. Don't know why, but they watch people. Sometimes I see a rather big one; covered in gold, fly around."

"Really…?" John stared at her, bemused. She nodded. He shook his head, "There's got to be an explanation."

"I don't know my little Reggie rather likes them. They don't hurt people, not that I heard and they stay away from them too," the woman mentioned. John nodded. "So, just the amber eyes, nothing else?" he gestured. The woman nodded. John thanked her and continued on.

As he went about it, he made a list of the responses he had from his encounters.

1\. "The ravens—something about them—they ain't any ravens I have seen," commented a man with a big fluffy hat coming out of a storefront. "They just perch and stare at a person."

2\. "The ravens? Oh them, I never looked at them much at all. But now, I can't help but look at them. Something about them is off," a woman in a rather pronounced yellow sundress commented.

3\. "I wouldn't know anything about birds. Ravens—I know they're smart, but them aren't any ravens I ever seen. Some steal, some gloat, but these, I don't know what to describe them," a fisherman commented.

In short, the responses were all starting to come together. No one knew when the ravens started to act odd or if they were even domesticated. John tried to find out as he went, but he had no luck. He went around, asking. Ravens are as pets, but regulations had a waiting period upward to seven months or longer. When it came to wild ravens, it was a muddled mess as with legal work. Otherwise, John came up empty with reasonable answers.

Tired about asking about birds, John went to work and asked about the tall man. He asked around and people gave him looks from bemused to downright scorn. Some people never believed in a tall man who went around in a costume and some took it to the extreme. So far, John had a few answers he collected. But they were beneficial, at least from Sherlock's perspective.

1\. "Sometimes I see him walking around outside my window!" a boy mentioned. "The streetlights come on and he disappears!"

2\. "My radio acts up whenever I hear something outside my window. It keeps acting up, even when I change the batteries, change the antenna's position. Hell, I bought a new one! The sounds it plays are downright terrifying. Scratchy, harsh, I can't even understand it," a cranky old man playing checkers with another.

3\. "You see him best when the streetlights' aren't on and the moon's obscured by the clouds," a teenager commented as she finished her sundae.

John sighed as he closed his notebook. He never thought to see the day that he met with a case that made him think he was in a crime novel. It was something he'd write on his off-days when there was nothing to do and Mary wasn't home.

Even so, he continued. John went into several businesses and asking questions, it made him feel like he was a journalist. He kept his questionings simple, one half about the ravens and the other half about the tall man. Majority tallied in to being that the ravens didn't act odd until the tall man appeared. And no one was quite sure when the tall man even appeared.

Some said that he appeared one night during a heavy snowfall after a massive thunder. At first, people thought it was a crash; some thought it was a bomb that had gone off somewhere. All in all, the people he spoke with stuck to their opinions. John sighed as he continued to make notes of his responses.

This was something that would be hard to match, John thought to himself as he exited a grocery store. He decided to go to an antique store and ask some questions.

"A tall man wearing a costume in the middle of the bloody night, talk of the flock of ravens?" Bruce blinked as he cleaned up a section of the antique store. "Man, these people have nothing to do!"  
"Um, have you seen anything out of ordinary?" John asked. Bruce shrugged, "Nothing I'd care. Tim went out for a smoke, came back late, scorned him and gave him the night shift as punishment."

"Tim?" John tilted his head. Bruce nodded. "My assistant, I have bad arthritis and on most days I can't lift a box," he elaborated.

John wrote that down in his notebook. "And, did Tim see anything?" John asked. Bruce called for Tim and he stuck his head out from the back and approached John, holding a dustpan in his hands. "Um, what's this about?" Tim asked. John coughed before he explained.

"It is part of the investigation," John summed. Tim tilted his head, "Why would you care about ravens and some nob wearing a costume?"

"It's complicated," John sighed. Truthfully, it was.

Tim shrugged, gave his timeline and Bruce confirmed it. John wrote it down and nodded, "Right then, thank you."

John then exited, not before learning that the sweets shop on the corner could offer some help. John thanked them as he headed that way. As he did, he glanced to see a raven flying overhead.

"A tall man wearing a plague doctor costume?" asked Mandy, the sweets store's manager. She was grasping for change and handed them to a customer as she talked to John. John nodded, "Yeah, has he been around here at all?"

"No," Mandy shook her head. She reached behind her to hand another customer a bag of mints. John sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Wait," Mandy said. She stopped for a moment before talking again. "Yeah, there have been some ghost stories surrounding something like that. Always taking care of the homeless and always disappears just before dawn. Yeah the folk in this town like their ghost stories. It gives them something to do I guess," she gave change to an elderly man. John nodded. "So, there isn't a tall person who could fit the description?" John asked. Mandy shook her head, "No, not that tall. I'm sorry."

"Um, may I ask if you have noticed strange behavior in the ravens?" John asked her. Mandy blinked, John nodded. Mandy chewed on her lips before she answered, "Yeah, they're pretty weird. I have heard of ravens being quite intelligent for their kind. But the way these ravens go about its almost uncanny valley."

"What do you mean?" John tilted his head. Mandy shrugged. "They stare at a person, not just a glance or whatever is ravens usually doing. They pay attention to a person and then they're off into the unknown. Sometimes I see a big one—a big one—adorned in gold. I swear it to you, sir. It only appears time to time when someone's done lost something," she said. John nods as he jotted down notes on his notepad. "And where would I go if I wanted to ask more on the matter?" he asked. She shrugged, "There's some chaps who obsess over it. You can find them at the video store on Edward."

John left, but not before buying some sweets for Mary, having it shipped to their home. He hailed a cab and as he entered, he had to glance up to the rafters. A raven was there looking down at him, its amber eyes glistening. John shook his head and got inside, and asked for the video store.

Arriving to Jacob's Video Store, John entered and met with eyes. Two men were behind the counter, while a woman came around from the back of the store with a box. John walked up the counter and introduced himself. He learned their names in return, Jesse, James, and Cassidy. They each looked at him as he explained his predicament. "I was wondering if you could tell me about the tall man that only comes out at night," he summed.

"You came to the right place," James smiled. Jesse nodded. Cassidy sat the box on the counter and grinned. John watched as one dug around behind the counter and pulled out a flyer. He took it and glanced down; it was a flyer with a picture of a plague doctor. "There have been stories all across jolly Sherwood about this here tall man. All have the same bit with him clad in the plague doctor attire," Jesse told him. James nodded, "Yeah he's got a bit of a following, that one."

"Yeah, they're called London Crows," Cassidy told John. John tilted his head, "London Crows?"

"The name derives from a small village's song. So nobody really knows it," Jesse explained. John nodded, "So what does these London Crows do?"

"They've been planning to storm the streets after dark and lumber around Sherwood. For a good fun they say," James said as he grabbed for a bottle under the counter. John blinked, "They never done anything like that before?"

"Well, not in costume. It's actually pretty costly to get a good plague doctor costume. More if it's especially the _real_ ones," Jesse shrugged. Cassidy and James nodded. "They have just reached their goal last month. It'll be a bit before their costumes come in," James told John. He was quick to grab for his notepad and write down the information. "Do you know where I can find the London Crows?" John asked them. They would be usually, a family owned tavern with the best haggis in the town as he wrote it down on the notepad. Curious, John then asked, "What do you know about the ravens in this area?"

"You mean the ones that follow you 'round?" asked Jesse. John nods. James nods, "Yeah, the dandiest thing about them. They seem to only follow people they're interested in."

"Yeah, I saw that," John exhaled. Cassidy blinked, "Have they been following you, sir?"

"Yeah, been so since I got here," John nodded. James grinned, "Yeah, they're going to follow you about for a while. But don't worry they'll usually quit when they're bored."

"Why do they follow people around?" John asked as he jotted down notes, shifting between looking down at the notepad and at the clerks. "Don't know. They just do," he heard them say. He then had a thought, "You don't suppose they're the tall man's?"

"I was thinking that, the ravens didn't show up until he did," James mentioned. John furrowed his brow, "When was that?"

"Been a while," Jesse replied. James agreed. Cassidy shrugged, "We didn't hear a peep until the homeless started to say something."

"Right, so how has he fared in the town's light?" John asked them. They replied, "Varied."

"Some say it's just a man who fancies wearing a costume and helping the needy," theorized James.

"Some say it's a spirit who rises from the depths of the spirit world," added Jesse.

"That weird man said he was dangerous," Cassidy crossed her arms. John looked at her, "What do you mean?"

"An older gentleman, he and his aide came in one day asking. Jesse and James were at a convention in London so it was just me. He was asking the same questions as you were and the way he talked, he was raving mad!" Cassidy explained. John blinked, "Do you know where I can find him?"

"He left, didn't know where he went after; he's not from here either. I dare say the tall man's been gaining light outside Sherwood," he watched her shrug. John nodded and turned the page of the notepad to a blank side. "Right, anything else I need to know about the tall man?" John looked. They shrugged. Cassidy replied, "Watch yourself, sir. There are things in this world that go beyond the norm."

The Olson Tavern was old, built in the early 1800s. It still looked as it did back then though with some noticeable changes. John stared at it for a bit, there were birds on the roof, but they weren't ravens. He glanced behind to the storefront across the road, no ravens there. He theorized that the ravens presumably got bored and left him alone. He hoped anyway. John entered the tavern and eyed the room. A barmaid asked what he was looking for and he asked her, "I'm looking for the London Crows."

She pointed to the back of the tavern. A circle of friends huddle in the corner, drinking and laughing. John headed toward them, when they noticed he bowed his head and introduced himself. They stared as he asked them the same questions as he had to the store clerks. One rubbed his beard, "So you're curious about the Plague Doctor, too?"

John nodded, and then asked, "Out of curiosity, why are you named the London Crows? I heard it derived from a song, that true?"

"Aye, it's a song from a village close to the Scotland border, at the line even. If you're curious enough, we can give you a tape with the song," Owen offered. John considered then accepted the offer. Owen reached into his bag under the table and handed John a cassette . Owen points, "This is one of the original recordings of the song, managed to get it on tape in mint condition."

John thanked him and stuck the cassette into his front pocket. "Have any of you gotten your costumes early?" John finally asked them. They stared at him. He gritted his teeth, "I'm sure you heard of the dead man found in the alley. I just wanted to clear things up. Some say they seen a man wearing a plague doctor costume around the time the man died.

"I'm sure I can say for the London Crows that we haven't gotten our costumes yet. And even if we did why would we kill a stock broker?" Owen questioned. John shrugged, "Any number of reasons."

"I trust you this, it wasn't us that killed him," Owen swore, a hand on his chest. He then added, "It would be against the true London Crow way."

"Then, suppose you can tell me if you see or heard from someone dressing up as a plague doctor?" John asked him. Owen looked at the people at the table, before Owen finally answered. He replied, "This town is small. And once there's a chance to cling onto something they're bound to keep it alive. Good for tourism, I heard. So maybe you should check with the oddity store on Boulder, the Council likes to work with him a lot."

"Right then, thank you for your time," John bowed his head. He left and hailed another cab. He sat in the back as he texted Sherlock what he has discovered. Sherlock was more or less interested. He then asked for John to continue on, explaining he was at the midst of breaking the case. John sighed and settled in his seat, he glimpsed out the window to see a raven flying beside the cab. Its amber eyes staring straight as it pushed upward and disappeared over the roof of the cab.


	4. Chapter 4

"Welcome to the Samson Oddity Shoppe," the shop's owner bowed his head. John nodded, "Thanks."

"What can I do for you, detective?" the owner, now named Frank, asked him. "Well, I have a lot to ask of you," John admitted. Frank nodded and offered John a seat at one of the plump chairs. John sat down and Frank sat opposite of him. John began to ask, "What do you know of the tall man?"

"Some say he's just a spirit, others say he's a person. What I believe, detective, is that people never bother to think outside the box," Frank explained. John tilted his head in confusion. Frank rephrased, "There is a grain of truth in both."

"I heard the Council asks you plenty to help them drum up tourism, is this true?" John asked him. Frank nodded. He answered, "Yes, Mr. Watson, I do it for the sake of the town. Few people take interest in small towns such as this when there's something like London to wander in."

"Then, can you tell me if they asked you to wear a plague doctor costume and wander Sherwood every night?" John gestured. Frank shook his head. "No, they hadn't. They were asking me to make posters for the London Crows. They're the ones who'll wear the doctor man costumes, not me," he said. John nodded, "How tall are you Mr. Dash?"

"Oh, roughly 1.6 meters (5'4")," Frank replied. John sighed and pondered. Frank Dash didn't look to be someone who could be the height of the tall man. Stilts wouldn't be far out of the equation, though given that he'd have to work around a tight schedule; John felt that Frank wasn't the tall man.

"When did the tall man start showing up?" John jotted notes as he listened. "To be fair with you, I don't know. No one does. But I do know those ravens didn't come around until he did," Frank was grabbing for a drink he had on the table. John glanced up, "Has someone new moved in that might've seen coincidental?"

"Just the homeless from London, believe it or not," Frank sighed. John stared. Frank chewed on his lips, "We're not as costly as London is, and so many come here in droves. We don't mind but since our town's small they're lucky to get into the churches every night."

"So, perhaps the ravens came from them?" John theorized. Frank shook his head, "No, the homeless been coming here for a while. The ravens and your tall man came later."

"Okay, maybe someone came here for work or some other?" John continued.

"No sir. The town doesn't have the amenities. So most don't bother," Frank shook his head. John nodded, "The ravens could they learn to follow people around?"

"Ravens are one of the most intelligent birds in the known world. If reared early enough they can do just about anything a human can if not better," Frank shrugged. John blinked, "How long would it take to rear a flock to do anything?"

"Depends, but six or seven years isn't too far off," Frank summed as he sipped on his drink. John wrote it down and glanced up, "Why would anyone train ravens?"

"Who's to know, but the way these ravens work it's hard to say for sure. If you lost your wedding ring, you'd find it in your hands next day, delivered and proper by a raven. More the one adorned in gold," Frank shrugged. John blinked, "They return things?"

"Oh yes, I don't know how they manage but they seem to track people down just to return things to them. My, they saved my arse a few times, lost me keys once or twice and I always get them back," Frank nodded. John wrote on his notepad a quick note about the odd behaviors. It entranced him that these particular ravens would return lost items to people. A far cry from the most documented cases revolving around ravens stealing shiny items or objects. Though, it even impressed John that these ravens were, pardon his pun, soaring past their brethren with intelligence.

John then nodded, "What stories have you heard about the tall man, if any?"

"If any," Frank rubbed his chin as he pondered. He then nodded. He began to regel a tale he heard, that a famous actor and his crew had been filming in Sherwood for a show. And that one night during a nasty storm that the actor encountered the tall man. "He never told anyone that story, the actor. Neither the crew either for that matter, said that no one would believe them and whatnot. Anyway, the bloke's a detective searching for clues to a homicide. And he's coming around the bend when the light above him comes crashing down. The wind had been blowing so hard that day it knocked the light off its support. The actor was right where it would've hit him, but it stopped just before it touched him. The actor was smart and covered his face and turned away from the light. Anyway the light never hit him and he's confused, they all were. He gets up, looks around, the light wasn't anywhere. Then when someone moved another light over to look for it, behind the actor was a tall man adorned in a Plague Doctor costume. They say not to turn around, but of course this being a trope in its own right. The actor turns around and is staring into the eyes of the tall man. It lasted only two minutes before lights came on and the tall man evaporated before their eyes. The actor since, holds to this day he encountered a ghost."

"Truly, I never heard anything like that before," John shook his head. Frank nodded, "Aye, the only reason we knew was because a lad caught some footage of it. As I said, the actor who it happened to keeps it hidden, I heard from a bird, heh that he never even told his wife."

"Is it someone I know?" John watched him shift spots in his seat. Frank chuckled, "A woman says she never kiss and tells. I oblige the same principle, I cannot tell you who it was that it happened to. Bad business if I did. And the man was so nice to me. It'd be a travesty if I break charity with him, besides his face in this Shoppe will drive the fan girls of his here."

"Can you give me a hint, at least?" John gestured to Frank. Frank pondered before nodding, "He's a well-known actor who plays a well-known detective."

"So, what do you think?" John asked him. Frank pondered, "Well, it might as well be a ghost. If I didn't learn history, I'd believe that were plague doctors here."

"So, perhaps a man died wearing a costume?" John tilted his head. Frank shrugged, "Most know the history of Sherwood better than I, but even they would say the same. No man had ever died wearing a Plague Doctor costume, much less an actual doctor coming here."

John nodded. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Dash," John smiled as he stood up. Frank stood up as well and shook his hand. Led out into the street and when Frank re-entered his store, John checked his phone. Sherlock wanted him to come to a small café called Lovelace and then asked what he found. John was quick to tell him that he had the notes and that he also had a cassette for them to play. John hailed a cab and the cabby drove him to Lovelace.

Paying the cabby the fare, John exited and glanced up, no ravens in sight. He sighed and entered the café; there in the corner was Sherlock as he was looking down at his phone. John neared him and pulled out the cassette for him to see. Sherlock glanced up and said, indifferent, "Well?"

"Well, not much luck on my end," John took a spot at the table and handed Sherlock the tape and rummaged for his notepad. Sherlock held the cassette and looked at it, "London Crow?"

"Yeah it's a song," John flipped through the notepad. Sherlock stared, "Even I never heard of it."

"It came from a village close to the Scotland border, so beats me," John sighed. Sherlock looked at him, "Why call it "London Crow"?"

"You tell me," John handed him the notepad. Sherlock grabbed it with his free hand and read through the notes. "So how's your end?" John asked him. Sherlock shrugged, "Jim was extorting money."

"So why kill him and not take the money?" John asked. Sherlock groaned, "It's not always about the money."  
"You just said he was extorting money," he heard John remind him as he read. From what John had learned it appeared that no one could tell when the tall man appeared. he and the ravens showed up around the same time. The homeless have been coming to Sherwood for a while so they couldn't have been responsible. Sherlock then noticed a small sentence that John wrote, about a man and his aide asking the same questions. Sherlock's eyes lit up with interest but pulled away when John was trying to get his attention. He, being Sherlock, interrupted John with, "A man and his aide?"

"Yeah," John blinked and stared at him. Sherlock blinked, "There's nothing more you wrote other than. A raving mad man and his aide came into the store asking about a man in the doctor man attire."

"I wrote it down to fall back on when I had nothing left to ask," John admits. Sherlock shook his head, "No, no, it's good. I happened to hear from someone of a man and a woman asking the same questions."

"So, what do you think?" John looked at Sherlock, expecting a longwinded answer that would go on for the ages if allowed. Sherlock shrugged, "I think they're connected, somehow."

"What now?" John blinked, surprised that Sherlock didn't give his usual longwinded answers. Sherlock handed back the notepad and raised the cassette with his free hand, studying it. When the waitress came around with more coffee, Sherlock asked her if the café had a cassette player. She headed behind the counter and reappeared with a portable player. Sherlock took it into his hands while John thanked her as she went and claimed a set of plates to bring to tables. Sherlock put in the cassette and turned on the player. Using the sliders he messed with the volume until it was loud enough for them to hear. A man with a distinct accent began to and string instruments played as he sung. In certain parts there were others who sung along with the man, haunting with their vocals. Sherlock and John listened at the song "London Crow" played:

Lon-don Crow!

Lon-don Crow!

Memories that you never for-gotten,

You pray for freedom,

But alas!

The life you once had is over,

A fleeting kiss from your lover,

And now you're a rover who grovels in the midnight grove.

You dream of sweet salvation,

But all you see is dreadful temptation.

The only comfort you find is in lamentation.

You roam the country side,

Where no one wanders outside,

In the midnight where the moon shines brightly,

Your eyes shine in the moonlight.

You sail through the quiet breeze,

The cold doesn't make you freeze.

Lon-don Crow!

Lon-don Crow!

What got you down?

You were a great man,

Now you wander aimlessly,

Living a life of hopeless dreams,

Dreaming of your old life,

With your sweet wife,

Now gone to the sailing wind,

As you remain on the cold brimstone,

Looking up to the moonlight,

Seeking a fleeting kiss from her, but it never comes.

Lon-don Crow!

Lon-don Crow!

What got you down?

Pick yourself up! Life ain't through.

Life has its days,

And Lord knows you had yours.

But now it's not the time,

Time is short,

And son, you're not getting any younger.

So find your salvation,

Ignore the temptations,

Break away from your lamentation.

Your life ain't over,

Stop being a rover and come right over,

Home is where the heart is,

And your home is here with us.

Tell us good ventures,

Tell us stories that take us on adventures,

Please Lon-don Crow, won't you stay with us?

Our home is small,

The hinges are rocking,

But home is where the heart is.

Hardships are what life entails,

But please Mr. Lon-don Crow, stay with us and we'll work them through,

This is our home.


	5. Chapter 5

Returning the cassette player, the song left them with befuddled looks on their faces. The song was rather odd; the accent was distinct, regional. None of them ever heard of anything like it. Then again John rather liked his talk shows. As for Sherlock… well… he never cared for the telly. Or the radio unless it served his needs, whatever those needs were.

John looked at the cassette tape in his hand and shook his head. "I don't see much of a connection, do you?" he glanced at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged, "I'd say this case just got interesting."

"How could it be interesting, you were investigating a man's death? Suddenly you're now interested in some man in a plague doctor costume and a flock of ravens?" John questioned. Sherlock rolled his eyes, "John have we met?"

"Unfortunately," John sighed. Sherlock nodded, "Then you know what I'm about to say."

"Which would be?" John blinked. Sherlock shook his head, "I'm going to look into this man and his aide. You continue with the investigation on the tall man and the ravens."

"What, are you joking?" John balked. "Why do I have to do this?"

"You're the best," Sherlock said with a smile. John scoffed, "Unbelievable! You expect me to do this?"

"Yes," Sherlock said rather indifferent, without hesitation. His light blue eyes didn't even have a hint of contradictions in them. It ensured that Sherlock wanted John to actually continue asking around like a madman.

John sighed, "Why can't I investigate the man and his aide. You can investigate the tall man and the bloody ravens."

"Well, you said you had a nasty case of writer's block," Sherlock eyed him. "You said you wanted some new material."

John blinked, oh, he did mention that. John chewed on his lips, "How am I supposed to make a story out of this?"

"You're a writer, it'll come to you," Sherlock said with a shrug. John sighed, "Right then, what do you want me to look for?"

"Anything of interest," Sherlock replied. He then got up from the table, "Now, I'll be heading off and investigating the man and his aide. I trust that you will find out our answers."

"Wait, Sherlock, you hadn't paid yet," John pointed out as a waitress handed them the check. Sherlock shrugged, "I plum forgot my wallet."

"Oh, no, don't you do this to me," John scorned. "You got here somehow!"

"I had spare change," he heard Sherlock say as he paid the modest check. John muttered under his breathe, "Bloody hell."

Sherlock stepped out of the café and looked around. He stopped when he spotted a raven perched on a lamppost. He stepped near it and stared into its amber eyes, "You're watching me aren't you?"

The raven chirped, responding. Sherlock watched its eyes following his movement. "Who is your master?" he asked it, though it chirped. "Is your master near here, or is it masters?" he continued, again it chirped. Sherlock chewed on his lips, he glanced around. He expected to see someone watching from afar, but no one out of place came to mind. He glimpsed back at the raven, "Why are you so interested in us?"

The raven flew off and disappeared over the bakery. Sherlock gritted his teeth, "I'll find out sooner or later."

He marched off; he decided to ask around for the man and his aide. It would be against his morale if he didn't question every person available before he made his deduction. After all, he was the great detective of London. He pondered about the man and his aide, where they gone in the town. John mentioned he was an older gentleman, so he decided to ask the bookkeeper. Upon entering, Sherlock met with a smell fitting for a book store that sold timeless books. The dim lighting gave it a sepia look as Sherlock stepped toward the mahogany counter. A man with a bushy mustache stepped behind and gave Sherlock a look, "May I help you, sir?"

"Yes, I was wondering if an older man and his aide came in at any point," Sherlock asked. The man shrugged, "Can you be more specific, sir?"

"He might've been raving mad, talking about the tall man? His aide was a woman?" Sherlock said, pacifying his annoyance to having to explain things in finer detail. The man's eyes lit up, with interest it looked. He nodded his head, "Yeah, with the suit!"

"May I ask about him?" Sherlock looked. The man nodded, "Aye, he came in with his aide, nice lass, and was getting books left and right. He asked about the tall man, if we'd seen him. Told him I hadn't. 'Cause I'm out like a light after nine, medications. He was weird though, told me I shouldn't be anywhere near the tall man if I see him. I asked him why and he said he was dangerous. I think he's not all there, you ken?"

"I ken," Sherlock nods. He stopped, "What did he look like?"

"Ah, as tall as you, white hair, fine wrinkles, piercing eyes. He wore a blue suit when he came in," the man described. Sherlock chewed on his lips before responding, "Did he say where he might be heading to after here?"

"Well, that part I don't know, he was talking about heading back to the junkyard. As I said before, I think he wasn't all there," the man shrugged. Sherlock nodded, "Thank you for your time."

"Any time," the man nodded in return.

Sherlock left and hailed a cab. He asked for the Junkyard outside Sherwood. It wasn't big, considering the town's small population. But to Sherlock it held his answers. Stepping out of the cabby, Sherlock headed through the wide entrance. Piles of trash stacked and separated, plastic with plastic, metals with metal. He walked around, muttering under his breathe, why would a man be in a junkyard. It was so kept that it vexed Sherlock that he couldn't find his answers. He stopped and looked at a line of old police boxes. They must've been there for decades. Sherlock stepped near one and looked at the red paint that turned coppery in the later years. He sighed and gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath as he passed the police boxes. He stopped and looked behind. There was one police box that stood out from the rest, it was blue, but like the rest worn with age. Sherlock shook his head, "What was he doing here?"

He cocked his head when he heard something fall in the distant. He headed toward the direction of the sound, when he found the source it was nothing more than a fallen heap. Sherlock, in a fit of frustration, kicked the heap and turned. He thought he heard a noise, something akin to something scrapping against metal. Sherlock ran through the junkyard, hoping to catch whoever might've been. When he came back to the line of police boxes, he saw something he wasn't familiar with. All the red police boxes accounted for, but the blue police box was missing. Sherlock ran to where it was and looked around. Thoughts ran through his mind, no one could've taken it. The size alone would be enough to need at least two people to carry and he would've heard their footsteps. Sherlock chewed on his lips and looked around, it left him vexed and he wasn't bound to give up. It crossed his mind many times that perhaps he imagined it and that it was never there to begin with. Though his mind disposed such notion and theorized it was there and somehow it disappeared. And it made him agitated.

Blue, the word crossed his mind. Blue police box; he was trying to piece a theory about why it disappeared without him knowing. He was sure he was alone, as he saw nothing that hinted someone was in the junkyard with him. He stomped around the junkyard, trying to figure things out in his own way. He kicked a heap and it fell over, he was furious, at himself for missing the chance to catch a culprit red handed. He was about to leave when he heard the sound of a truck pulling up to the entrance of the junkyard. Sherlock ran as fast as his legs could bother to carry him to meet with an older gentleman stepping out of the truck. He was out of breath as he asked the man, "The blue police box, what happened to it?"

The man was staring at him; Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes. He shouted this time around, "The _blue_ police box, the one next to the red police boxes lined?"

The man blinked and something clicked and he pointed, "Oh, you mean that one? How much do you want?"

"Want?" Sherlock stopped, confused. He shook his head, "No, it's gone!"

"Calm down, lad, what's got your curls in a twist?" the man said, raising his hands. Sherlock began to talk about him working on a case and he was curious when he heard about a man and his aide. He stopped for a minute and the man seemed to have a look on his face. "Oh, right, him," he said, rather disinterested. He shrugged, "Must've come back for it."

Sherlock eyed him. He noticed and threw up his hands, "He kept some police box here. He said he had no other place to put it and I told him he could keep it here."

"Was he an older gentleman?" Sherlock stepped near him. The man nodded, "Younger than me, but that's the gist of it."

"Did he have an aide at his side?" Sherlock continued. The man nodded again. Sherlock waved his hand, "Do you know anything about him?"

"Not really, no, he showed up and asked if I could keep an eye on his police box," the man shrugged. Sherlock gritted his teeth, "Did he say where he may have gone, or anything of the sort?"

"He did ask me if I had any knowledge of the tall man, that's about it," the man sighed. Sherlock stopped, "Did he say anything about the tall man?"

"Said to his aide that he must've came here, 'cause he took off with her trying to catch up," the man remembered. Sherlock then asked, "Did he give you his name, or his aide's?"

"Actually, he did," the man rubbed his stubble. "Well, I caught the aide's, I didn't catch his. His aide's name is Clara and she was about to say his name but I guess running after him made it moot point. She called him, Doctor."

"Doctor," Sherlock echoed. The man nodded. Sherlock looked into the yonder, "Did you recognize him?"

"No sir, I didn't, he's a strange one, him," the man replied. Sherlock nods, "Thank you for your time."

"Any time, but um, do call me if you're looking for anything," the man watched him run out of the junkyard.

Sherlock texted John, John replied back that he at least found the origin behind the song. The name came from migrant workers, from Scotland. They were coming down for work and majority were looking to work in London, hence the London part. The Crow part came from the fact they "flocked" to the village as it was close to the border. And their faces blackened from the coals they would shovel as means to scrap together quick funds. There were many versions of the song; the original was in a mixture of Gaelic and Old English. The version they listened to was the "official" translation of the original. There was another version, one that was more recent, late forties-early fifties. This one was more popular than the original. It was popular enough to appear time to time on the radio on the radio stations that played the classics. John said he only learned the fact from talking to a woman whose name was Clara, he met her at the town's park.

Sherlock was quick to tell him that Clara was their only hope of tracking down the man.

Before he left, Sherlock glanced over to see a raven perched on the fencing. Its amber eyes followed him as he walked toward it, stopping so he didn't get too close and cause it to flee. Sherlock eyed the raven as it eyed back. For whatever reason known only to Sherlock, he held his arm outreached. The raven stared at it for more than a minute and flew off the fencing and landing on it. Its weight was twice that of the average weight of a raven. It wasn't the mating season, so it wasn't with eggs, nor was it female at all. Sherlock looked at the raven as it looked back. He petted its head gently, it head butted his finger, in affection. To a man like Sherlock, even he couldn't help but pet the raven. It was affectionate, which meant either it had plenty of human contact or raised one. Either of which indicated that someone did in fact raise a flock of ravens. Why, as echoed endlessly, who's to know?


	6. Chapter 6

John spent much of his time asking around. All the same, no one knew when the tall man came to Sherwood or why. The ravens were his, since they didn't show up until he did. No one knew anyone who had a flock of domesticated ravens or knew anyone who bought any. With a town like Sherwood, the answers were becoming repetitive. John was casting his doubts early on. He glanced up to the raven that perched itself on a statue of Virgo. But as he neared it, he met with a sight he never thought to see. This particular raven, with its characterized amber eyes, had gold streaks on its wings. Its beak was bronze colored and it wore a gold circlet around its forehead. Attached to the circlet behind its head were two long thin and small spade shaped flowing braids. John blinked, he thought he gone mad from wandering around Sherwood, but when the raven cawed at him. It cemented in his mind that this was real.

Walking up to it, he stared at the raven who stared back. John chewed the bottom of his lips, questioning whether he should or should not. In the end he did anyway, after all he knew Sherlock would do the same. "So," he talked to it. It tilted its head, looking as if it understood what he was saying. John watched its eyes center themselves on his as he asked, "Who do you belong to?"

The raven cawed at him. The way it cawed, it sounded odd. John didn't think much of it; the automobiles near the area were causing it. But he swore he heard mechanic noises, in the raven's caw. John shrugged it off. It had been a long and winded morning and it didn't help he hadn't had the proper time to eat. The only thing that sustained John this long was a quick cup of coffee and a muffin from Café Lovelace. But, John bit down on his lips; he had to satiate Sherlock's desire to overthink things. If not, then Sherlock wouldn't leave him alone when they returned to London, if they ever did. And if there's one thing all can say about Sherlock, a bored Sherlock solves murders. But deny Sherlock his ungodly right to overthink and overdo whatever he thinks about. God rest their soul the one who tries to calm him.

John sighed; he stopped when he noticed the raven sympathized. It sympathized. That alone made John question. The raven stared at him, as if beckoning him. John tried many times to think of what it wanted his mind was blank. He decided to try under the assumption that these ravens are pets. John held his arm outreached. He thought to himself, the raven wouldn't bother. He presumed the raven would think of him as just another bloody idiot. No, none of that was the case. To John's amazement, the raven flew off the Virgo statue and landed on him. John stared at the raven as it stared back. Around its neck was a gold band with a name etched in a way many wouldn't be able to see: Hippolyta.

It crossed John's mind. Hippolyta in the myths was the ruler of the Amazonians. She created the Amazonians by crafting them from clay and breathing life into them. Hippolyta looked at him and he looked at it and it tilted its head when he did the same. John chewed on his lip; he raised his free hand. When it did, he petted it, touching the circlet. John weighed the raven as it head butted his finger, in affection. It was three times heavy than the ravens he's seen in London. More so, it was quite heavy that he had trouble keeping his arm upright. Hippolyta must've noticed his discomfort as it moved sideways. It took a spot on his shoulder. John stared at it, it staring at his eyes. For John, this was much a first for him. Indeed at times he had run-ins with animals, wild and domesticated. The beak was cold, as it rubbed against his cheek, John mused that the temperament was that of a dog. "Hippolyta," John called to it, curious. It raised its head and looked at him. He continued, "Where's your master?"

It cawed in response, though it was quiet, as if for John's benefit as it was right next to his ear. John blinked, "Do you think you can take me to him… or her?"

He swore, nay he _saw_, the raven shaking its head, as if saying no. John was sure at this point he was mad and this raven proved it. A raven shaking its head at John was something he never thought would happen to him. It came to John; he had been having problems writing his next novel. Something like this would help eke out a few paragraphs, might even be a chapter. And what else but an event like this to help draw inspiration from.

Telling Sherlock this was an idea, but John decided it was time for schoolboy payback. Sherlock has always been doing things and never bothering to tell John when it mattered. John decided he was going to keep this event between him and Hippolyta. At least the raven sympathized with him. And as far as he could see, the raven wasn't going to lead him into a trap. Even into other situations that Sherlock always got him in.

His mind snapped back to the raven as it looked into his eyes, as if wandering was going on. John smiled, rather childishly, "I don't suppose you can keep secrets, yeah?"

The raven raised its head, John swearing he saw it smile. John kept his smile regardless, "Don't tell Sherlock this happened. Keep it between us, won't you? It'll drive him mad. And don't worry; it's only payback for all those other times he's never told me things."

Hippolyta agreed, it cawed in response and John couldn't help but pet it again. "Why is it the only one to agree with me is a raven?" John questioned. Hippolyta tilted its head. John chuckled at it, "Oh, you have no idea what it's like to have to eke it out as a detective slash writer. Actually, I don't suppose you'd mind if I write about you in my blog?"

Hippolyta blinked and cawed, curious. John made a face, "I have a dreadful case of writer's block. I can't think of anything to write and with Sherlock having me on speed dial it'll never let up."

Hippolyta agreed, it head butted against his cheek. John chuckled, "I promise your portrayal will be exact."

Hippolyta turned its head when it heard other ravens cawing. It tilted its head, it cawed in response and the ravens in the distant replied. It turned to John and pecked at his lips, as if giving him a kiss, before flying off. John rubbed his lips. He watched as Hippolyta disappeared over the church, leaving him alone. John had a stupid smile on his face. This was an experience that he knew will never happen again, guarantied. The fact that Sherlock wouldn't know was icing on the cake.

John rubbed his face; he decided to settle on a stroll through a park. Evening was upon him. It wouldn't surprise him the least if Sherlock would ask him to stalk the night for the tall man. He already had it etched out and was waiting for the appropriate time to conveniently text John. For now, John just wanted to have some time alone before that happens.

He strolled through Mulberry Park and found a small cart had set up near the picnic tables. It served small things such as coffee and pastries and John was a man who wouldn't pass up on such things. He stood in front of the man named Wally as he ordered a cup of coffee and asked for a bagel with sesame seeds. With his cup of coffee in hand, John sipped as he handed Wally a fiver as he in turn handed John a bagel. John thanked Wally and strolled to a bench near a rubbish can where he sat and munched on the bagel. It wasn't Mary's minced pies or the like, but it did the job and John was just really happy to get something to munch on. As he held the half-eaten bagel in his mouth, he used his free hand to flip through his notepad. He managed to list suspects and their motives. Some he had to guess on, but others were more concrete. Otherwise, he had to make do with what he had. With his free hand, John sketched out Hippolyta under the evidence section he had in his notepad. He included some excerpts he was thinking of using in his blog post. When he finished his bagel, he took a gulp of his coffee left to cool. As he flipped through the notepad, he came across the pages he wrote about the London Crow song. He read through his notes and as he did, he heard Wally converse with a woman. He heard footsteps walking toward him. "Excuse me," he heard her. He glimpsed to a woman, average height, hair tied back, standing there. "Is this seat taken?"

She points to an empty spot beside John. John shook his head, "No."

She took her spot and nibbled on a croissant, taking sips of her coffee. John sighed as he closed the notepad. The woman asked him, "Are you from around here?"

"Oh, no I'm just visiting here," John cracked a small smile at her. The woman glanced down at the notepad his hand was resting upon, "Are you a writer?"

"Sort of," John gestured. He stopped; he hadn't seen someone like her either. He cleared his throat as he asked, "Um, may I ask you some questions?"

"Sure," the woman smiled. She introduced herself as Clara. "Um, have you heard about a song called, "London Crow"?" John asked her. Clara nodded. John continued, "I was wondering if you knew anything about its significance?"

"The song was a worker's ballad. Workers coming down from the Highland used to sing it to lift their spirits," Clara summed. John raised his coffee, "What village did it originate from?"

"From Galahad, close to the border," Clara replied, taking a quick bite out of her croissant. John nods, "Why is it called "London Crow"?"

Clara answered, "London was one of the major destinations the workers would head for. Crow came from shifting coals and the like for quick money in Galahad. And at the end of the day their voices would be hoarse from shoveling coals, their faces blackened."

"I heard there were different versions of the song, this true?" John watched as she shifted in her spot. Clara nods, "There's at least four that I know of. The original one, in Gaelic, the second one was a mixed translation of Gaelic and English. The third translated further, and the fourth is more or less the one most people heard of but never thought of."

"Interesting," John blinks. Clara nodded. "Yeah, go figure. Most don't know because it's usually played on the radio stations that play old songs," she said. John nodded in return. He pondered, "I don't suppose you'd know anything about the tall man who's been causing a bit of stir do you?"

"The one that walks around in the middle of the night, feeds the poor?" Clare gestured. John nods. Clara continued, "With the ravens?"

"That's the one," John gestured with his coffee cup. Clare shrugged, "Beats me."

"Ah well, thanks anyway," John sighed. Clara stared, "Why are you asking, if you don't mind?"

"Well, I'm working on a case and I'm trying to narrow the suspects, it hasn't been a good day," John rubbed his brow. Clara finished her tea before chugging the cup into the rubbish can. She stopped, "Your name is John Watson, correct?"

"Yeah," John nods. Clara turned to him, "You work with Sherlock Holmes, right?"

"Yeah," she heard him say. She had a look on her face, as if she recognized him and he didn't realize it. John was about to say something when an older man appeared before them. His brow furrowed at the sight of John. Clara looked at the older man, "Any luck?"

"No," the man said, disgruntled. John watched him as he moved around. The man stopped and stared at John, John staring back. Clara smiled at the man, "Doctor, we still have time."

"Time," the Doctor scoffed. He shook his head, "Unlikely."

"I'm sure you'll get lucky tonight," Clara assured him. He scoffed again. John was hapless, this was another first for him. Quite honestly he didn't know what to say other than stare at the scene as it unfolded. The Doctor spun around as he heard the sounds of the ravens cawing, he gritted his teeth. He turned to John, "Who are you?"

"Me?" John pointed at himself. The Doctor grunted, "No, the rubbish bin."

"Doctor," Clara hissed at him. John cleared his throat, "My name is John Watson."

"Watson," the Doctor's eyes lit up. He looked over at Clara, "You were talking with him?"

"I was having a polite conversation, yes," Clare nodded. The Doctor shook his head. "Clara, this isn't the time to talk to John Watson."

"You know who I am?" John looked at him. The Doctor groaned, "Of course! I know who you are, I know who Sherlock is. I didn't come from under a rock."

"I'm sorry, but he's been in a bad mood as of late," Clara explained. The Doctor chortled. "I, having a bad mood?" the Doctor pointed. John cleared his throat before saying, "Am I missing something?"

"Nothing that concerns you," the Doctor leered at him. Clara hissed at him for being impolite but the Doctor didn't care. He said for Clara to come back to the usual place when she's done before he stormed off. John's face screamed of confusion and it showed. Clara sighed, "I'm sorry about him, he gets cranky when he doesn't solve things."

"Trust me, I know what you mean," John nodded. Clara chewed on her lips, "I'm sorry for his poor reaction. He's usually good about things, I swear."

"It seems something's been giving him some problems," John mentioned. Clara nodded. "Yeah, he's been looking into some things and can't figure them out. So he's been busy running around hoping for some answers," she explained. John stopped, "What is he looking for, if you don't mind?"

"Where do I begin?" Clara exhaled. She gave a weary smile. "I'm sorry, but I should go after him, it'd be poor taste if I leave him alone," she said. John nodded. Clara bowed her head and ran off after the Doctor, leaving John with a bemused look. He reached for his phone and texted Sherlock; he was straight to the point. Sherlock replied and said that Clara and the man to the mystery of the tall man, somehow. John sighed and asked how he would know that and Sherlock didn't respond. John rubbed his eyes and exhaled, "Blimey I'm tired."

Sherlock arrived to the park with a look on his face. John slept on the bench, with an arm under his chin. Sherlock never understood why John was sleeping on the job, other than it was wasting time. He stepped in front of John and stared. He grabbed the arm's cuff and pulled the arm away and allowing John to wake up with his eyes fluttering open. He sputtered as he blinked several times and only stopped when he saw who was in front of him. Sherlock stared at him, with a look. John groaned, "What now?"

"Where are Clara and the man?" Sherlock asked him. John shrugged, "Bloody hell, I'm not stalking them because of your convictions."

"They're suspects, John," Sherlock insisted. John groaned, "Good god Sherlock, I'm supposed to be the level headed one in all this madness. Even I'm considering switching sides."

"Where did they go?" Sherlock demanded. John pointed toward the opposite entrance, "I don't know where they went after."

Sherlock looked appalled, "You didn't follow them?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware stalking was in the job description," John crossed his arms. Sherlock shook his head, "They're suspects."

"And if they are, they'll stick around, won't they?" John eyed him. Sherlock exhaled and stomped around the bench. He stopped when he had an idea. He pointed at John, "It's almost night, go find the tall man."

"Wait, you're asking me to look, in the middle of the night, for the tall man?" John tried to understand. Sherlock nodded, "It's almost dark."

"I'm not going to stalk about the night for him, Sherlock," John shook his head. Sherlock stared. "I can't do it," he insisted. John stared at him, "Why not?"

"I'm going to look for them," Sherlock declared. John sighed and rubbed his eyes. He wished he hadn't gotten out of bed this morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Upon arriving at the Saint Valentine Church of Christ, John entered and was met with at most thirty people lining for food. He found the vicar, serving a couple a ladle of stew in their bowls. They passed John, discussing tonight's cold weather. When the vicar sat the ladle down, he glanced up and stared at John for a minute before he asked, "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for information, regarding the purported tall man," John explained. The vicar tilted his head in confusion. John chewed on his lips, "I'm working on a case."

"Oh, you mean the one found dead in Bones Alley," the vicar looked at him. John nodded. The vicar served a plate of macaroni and cheese to a man, "There are some people who could help."

John scoured until he found the people that the vicar said could help with the tall man. They sat around the table, playing craps. John cleared his throat. Eyes were on him, he bowed his head as he stood near the table. "Hello, I was hoping to talk to you," he said politely to them. The elderly woman blinked before nodding, "Oh course, come sit with us, Floyd's losing anyway."

"Says you, Pat," responded Floyd. Pat smiled at John, "What can we do for you?"

They sat around the table, playing craps. John cleared his throat. Eyes were on him, he bowed his head as he stood near the table. "Hello, I was hoping to talk to you," he said politely to them. The elderly woman blinked before nodding, "Oh course, come sit with us, Floyd's losing anyway."

"Says you, Pat," responded Floyd. Pat smiled at John, "What can we do for you?"

"Oh, I was wandering if you'd be able to tell me about the tall man who goes around wearing a plague doctor costume," John smiled back. Floyd cleared his throat; the man beside him shook his head. Pat frowned, "Are you one of those people that make up stories?"

"Why would I make up stories?" John asked her. Floyd responded instead. "People like to make stories about people. However, this man you are talking about is not a spirit—a demon—or anything like that. He's a man with a warm heart, even if he does wear that costume," he said as he shuffled the cards. John nodded and asked, "If he's real—then why does everyone else seem to think otherwise?"

"Because, he only comes out at night," Pat explains. Floyd nods. "Yeah, he doesn't come out in the day," he adds. John cleared his throat and asked, "If he's real then you'd be able to tell me where I can find him, yes?"

"He doesn't talk, love," Pat touched John's shoulder lightly. Floyd nods again. "He doesn't, we've tried to talk to him and the entire sort, but he never responds," he sighs as he sat a card down. John blinked before asking, "Then do you know where he goes?"

"Why are we talking to you? What good are you?" Floyd snorts. John sighs before lying in a matter that could rival Sherlock, "I'm working on something."

"Wait a minute," Floyd pointed at him suddenly. "He looks familiar."

"He does," Pat nodded. John smiled. "Well, my name's John Watson," he introduced himself.

Pat snapped her fingers as she pondered before exclaiming, "He works for Sherlock!"

"Does he now?" Floyd eyed John. Pat smiled, "Yes, he works for Sherlock. I told you, oh I told you!"

"Woman," Floyd shook his head before looking at John. "Please forgive her, she's been keen on Sherlock—thinkin' he be about in our neck of the woods," he told him. John crossed his arms. "Then have you heard about the murder that took place late last night?" he asked the two. They looked at each other before Pat replied. "Oh yes, but what does that have to do with us?"

"We're trying to figure out who killed him, and any help is appreciated," John explained to her as Floyd doled out the cards to the table. "He didn't kill him if that's what you're wandering," Floyd eyed John as he sat a card down. John shook his head. "Why would I think that?" he asked. Floyd shrugged his shoulder. "Simple response to things, I guess," he said adamantly. John chewed on his bottom lip, an idea came to mind. It was apparent that Pat was a huge fan of Sherlock and getting to meet him in person would probably help their chances, it couldn't hurt. "Tell you what, if you can help me meet him, you can meet Sherlock in person after the case is solved, gentleman's honor" John said boldly. Pat looked at the others as they sat in their seats uneasy. "He's rather shy around new people," Pat said to him. John nodded. "I understand that, but it'd just be me, no one else," he assured her.

"He comes around usually at midnight and stays out until four in the morning," Floyd explained to John. John nodded as he quickly rummaged through his pocket for his notepad and wrote the times down. Pat continued, "He comes to the South Alley where we huddle if we can't get into the churches for the night, you can find it if you go through any of the alleyways. He usually buys things for others and comes to us into the alley to hand out supplies."

"He'll usually leave after a little before four, but if it's been a cold night like it has been for the past week, he stays with us until the sun is over the horizon," Floyd added. John quickly wrote everything said down, he looked up and they continued. "He also stays with us if there have been problems with the drunkards or unruly youths," Pat explained as she sat a card down. "He walks about after he comes through the alley, usually to check up on things. He comes back afterward," Floyd added. John nods as he wrote it down. "He's rather fond of ravens," Pat said. Floyd nodded. "Yeah, sometimes a couple flies down into the alley just to perch on his shoulder. The damnedest thing is that Sherwood never had ravens with amber eyes until he showed up," he added. John looked up to them confused.

"I think of them as his eyes and ears," Pat said after she placed her card down on the table. "He shows up after they do—at least at night that is."

"Right, so hypothetically speaking, it's possible to find him in the day if I were to follow the ravens?" John asked. They laughed. "No, no, the ravens won't lead you to him. I think they're brighter than some of the people here. They _know_ people by face and usually if they're following someone, it's because of reasons," Floyd chuckled. John tilted his head in confusion. "What reasons would there be?" he asked. Floyd shrugged. Pat giggled and said, "Maybe he's just curious as you are. I did mention it to him the other night that he should meet Sherlock one day. Just for old times' sake, really."

"Right," John wrote down everything he could imagine on the notepad. He finished and tucked it away and held out his hand. He shook their hands and departed. Pat reminding him as he headed to the door their agreement, he gritted his teeth as he pulled out his phone. He quickly texted what he learned and at the end of it, he added the arrangement he made. Sherlock was more or less pleased with the outcome and agreed to meet the homeless after their peculiar case was settled. John then asked about Sherlock's attempts at finding Clare and the man who was known simply as Doctor, he didn't respond initially which meant that he wasn't having any luck.

Night set in and the fog slowly rolled in. The clouds blanketed the moon, leaving the streetlights and signs to be the source of light. Tonight the weather was tame; it wasn't as cold as the other night and felt much more pleasant. John strolled along the sidewalk, glancing around; he stopped when he noticed the office building where he spoke with the accountant and remembered that the alleyway linked to the main alley. He walked through the narrow alleyway, with trashcans lining the walls and dumpsters with the tops open. Continuing until he eventually found the alley, he was met with sides of the walls lining with homeless. A fire was set in a barrel with several circling it, with murmurs amongst themselves. Sherlock moved toward the barrel and cleared his throat. He stopped and looked around, before asking them, "So, our dear friend, where is he?"

"He's making his rounds, I'm sure of," Pat smiled as she held her hands up near the fire. "He's probably at the convenience store, usually he's getting supplies and whatnot from it," Floyd added. John nodded and looked up to the skies with no break in the thick clouds. He swore he saw black specks flying around and presumed them to be the ravens that have been noted. His assumptions were right when a speck flew down to the side of the wall and glowed in the light casted off from the fire. The raven's amber eyes moved around the alley until they met John's and the raven began to caw into the distant. John followed the raven's eyes toward the end of the alley and he narrowed his eyes. He turned his head briefly as the raven flew off and seemingly disappeared. The sound of bags jangling in the breeze made John assume that the tall man had appeared. However, he was disappointed when it was some homeless who had bags of food, and elated expressions on their face. They carried their bags to their spots and shared some of the food with the people around them, happily talking amongst themselves. John chewed on his bottom lip and looked at Pat. "Is it possible for him to know I'm here?" he asked her. Pat pondered. "I suppose. I'm sure he'll come around," she said. John stood and impatiently waited, he glanced up to the clouds that slowly broke apart, revealing the full moon and flying across it a large black speck

He assumed that the ravens tipped the tall man off and that he might not come. He was about to simply call it a night when he heard footsteps coming from the end of the alley. They were heavy and sounded metallic, a sure sign someone was wearing steel toes. The footsteps were getting closer and John eyed from afar, seeing someone taller than even Sherlock approaching, his hat slightly moving in the breeze. He held plastic bags and voices overlapped as he handed them off to those who clamored around him. The fire rose up suddenly, showering the Plague Doctor with light, revealing his hollow eyes glistening and the bronze mask illuminating. John found that he himself was taking a step back, unusual even for him, but the tall man's eyes met with his and he felt a cold chill down his neck. His height alone didn't help either, he was tall and lean and towered over John so much he had to strain his neck just to look up at him. Pat and Floyd clamored to the man, smiling as they explained to him that John wanted to meet him. Floyd glanced over to John. "We usually just refer him as the doctor man," he explained to him. The Plague Doctor's hand rose up and he pointed at John. Pat nodded and looked over to John. "He's a good man, don't fret," she told him, as if to comfort him. John nodded and cleared his throat.

He stood in front of the man and bowed his head. "My name is John Watson," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. The Plague Doctor didn't exchange a handshake but slightly bowed his head. John gritted his teeth slightly as he tried to formulate words. He managed to as he asked, "Someone was murdered and it was stated that you were around the time they were alive."

What happened next, made John question himself.

A raven flew down and perched itself on the right shoulder of the Plague Doctor. The amber eyes lit up and something peculiar happened. "_Assist…tant_," John heard. He thought it was the man speaking, but upon further inspection, it was the raven that spoke. "_Assist…tant_," the raven chirped. John stared at the Plague Doctor. "The assistant from the antique store, you mean?" he asked. The raven replied, "…_yes_."

"How do you know?" John eyed the raven. The raven fluttered its wings, "…_followed_."

"Where from," John pressed. The raven shook its head. "…_the…antique… store_," it said.

John nodded and looked at the Plague Doctor. "To where after," John persisted. The raven cawed at him, annoyed at his constant requests. The Plague Doctor raised his hand the raven returned to answering on his behalf. "…_to… the… river…front_," it said.

"Show me," John demanded. The Plague Doctor nodded and turned. John was led out of the alley toward the main streets. He struggled to keep up with the Plague Doctor, for someone as tall as him who walked slowly he was much faster than Sherlock. The Plague Doctor led him until they came toward the shores of the riverfront that was closest to the bridge. He pointed to the underside of the bridge. John followed where he was pointing and found an expensive suitcase. Upon opening it, there were papers strewn inside, all with the same details. The assistant was trying to save the antique store and attempted to talk things out with Jim. However, Jim wasn't keen on helping him. Then the damning piece of information came to light when John raised a piece of paper to his eyes, a paper with details that would've taken the antique store without the owner knowing. John pieced together what happened; the assistant followed Jim and tried to reason. Jim wouldn't and presumably gloated how he would take the antique store and its entire entirety without the owner's intervention. The assistant became belligerent and with a gun he acquired by illegal means, shot Jim in the alleyway and dumped his briefcase under the bridge. With that, John had his answers.

The Plague Doctor glimpsed off into the distant, as if spotting something. The raven followed his gaze and took flight, climbing height until unable to be seen by even the moon. The Plague Doctor looked back at John and studied him. John studied him in return. Whenever he tilted his head, so did the Plague Doctor. They stared at each other until the raven came back, cawing urgently. A man yelling in the distant sent the raven to soar into the air, cawing down to the Plague Doctor. John turned his head to see two people running up the riverfront, a woman and an older man. When he glanced back, the Plague Doctor disappeared. "I saw him go this way!" said Clara as she had her hands over her knees, trying to catch her breath. "Ravens, why did it have to be ravens," said the Doctor as he tried to catch his breath as well. John stared at them, bemused. The Doctor rubbed his brows and pointed at Clara. "We'll have to do something about the ravens," he said. John, curious, walked up to them. "Why are you after him?" he asked them. The Doctor scoffed and pointed, "I should ask the same. Bloody hell, why are you here?"

"I was solving a case," John told him. Clara looked at him unceasingly, "Did he… say anything to you?"

"Just the ravens," John mentioned. The Doctor stepped in front of him and stared at him directly, "Why were you following him?"

"He was leading me to the evidence," John explained. The Doctor shook his head and rubbed his head, "Clara, we have to try another night."

"Of course, Doctor," Clara nodded. John looked at them, "Will someone _please_ tell me what is going on here?"

"What is going on here?" the Doctor looked at John with his brows furrowed. John crossed his arms, "I have had a very rough day as is."

"Oh, _you_ had a rough day?" the Doctor challenged him. "Bad enough Sherlock's been stalking about looking for us."

John stopped. He blinked, "You were _suspects_ in a case!"

"I never _murdered_ anyone!" the Doctor pointed at himself. John shook his head, "Then why didn't you just _bloody_ talk with Sherlock and clear it up!"

"Because we don't _have_ time to talk about someone getting shot!" the Doctor looked into his eyes. John threw up his arms, "That bloody doesn't make _sense_!"

Clara stood between them, keeping them separate from each other. "Doctor, it's only fair he should know what's going on," she told him. The Doctor sighed and stared at the ground for a moment before he looked up at John and rubbed his eyes, "Fine. I suppose I can tell you what's been happening."

Before the Doctor could even speak, they all heard footsteps coming toward them. John looked and there running after them, was Sherlock. John heard his name and closed his eyes briefly, just hoping this was all a dream and he was at home with Mary. However, as he opened his eyes, it wasn't the case. There standing before them, was Sherlock who tugged on his coat. The Doctor stared at him and he did the same, Clara raised her hands up and almost screamed, "Can we please talk things over like _proper_ gentlemen?"

"He's a dangerous machine," the Doctor looked at Sherlock. Clara looked at the Doctor urgently. "Is there no way to find him, Doctor?" she asked him. The Doctor groaned as he rubbed his brow. "No, he's a tricky one," he sighed. Sherlock stared at them, confused. "What _is_ going on?" he demanded. The Doctor sighed and shook his head before saying, "It's beyond even _you_, I'm afraid."

"Oh _is_ it?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. The Doctor rolled his eyes. "You may be the great Sherlock Holmes, but even _you_ can't comprehend what is going on," he explained. Sherlock crossed his arms. "Who is he and _why_ are you hunting him?" he asked the Doctor. John nodded, "For once I agree with Sherlock!"

"Gentlemen..!" Clara stared at them. The Doctor gritted his teeth, he didn't want to but he knew he had no choice but to. After all, if he didn't these two would get themselves hurt or worse. "Come with us, we'll have to go back to the TARDIS anyway," the Doctor motioned with his hand for Sherlock and John to follow him and Clara. Sherlock quickly sent a text to Lestrade, explaining to him that the case has been solved and the evidence needed is to be picked up by the bridge. John looking at Sherlock as Sherlock stared at the Doctor. "What is going on, Sherlock?" John asked him. Sherlock gritted his teeth, "Who knows, John?"

Clara explained as they headed from the riverfront toward another part of the town about the reasoning for their appearance. A man was murdered while on patrol. There was no weapon and the man had no known enemies. Clara and the Doctor were investigating primarily because of the fact that during his last communications with his home base, there were ravens that were following him around prior to his death.

John couldn't believe her. Neither he nor Sherlock ever heard of another man murdered much less one where the victim was followed by the ravens. Sherlock himself didn't know what to believe in anymore. It was all very confusing with what was going on.

The Doctor hushed them and points to a peculiar object. It was a standard police box, abet it was blue instead of the standard red. John crossed his arms; he then saw how it was peculiarly in the wrong spot for a police box. Even more, he was surprised that a police box was even still in service. Sherlock then remembered the missing police box at the junkyard and was in awe that it was here and now. He gazed at the Doctor who stepped in front of the door and fumbled into his pockets, he muttered under his breath until he brought out a key. As he opened the door, he looked to Clara with a look on his face and said, "Still smells horrible."

Clara sighed as she followed the Doctor inside. "It's _Midnight's Kiss_!" she corrected him, referring to a perfume scent. Sherlock and John slowly entered the TARDIS and were amazed at the sight. John was sure it was all a dream, it must have been. Sherlock found himself studying every inch of the interior, attempting to identify whatever he was looking at. "It's a time machine," Clara said to them. They both stopped. They glanced at her. "A what?" their brows raised. "It's a _TARDIS_," the Doctor told them. It was explained to them that it was an acronym for **T**ime** a**nd **R**elative **D**imension **i**n **S**pace. John crossed his arms, "It's a time machine?"

"That's not possible," Sherlock shook his head.

The Doctor scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Acting like a Scully isn't going to help your case. You're in a time machine, what more proof do you bloody want?" he said as he went to the controls.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock crossed his arms, "Why is he here?"

"That's the thing, I don't know _why_ he's here," the Doctor shook his head. Sherlock blinked, "Where did he come from?"

The Doctor groaned, indicating that he didn't know the answer either. John looked at Sherlock, "What do you think?"

"I think this case of ours just became interesting," Sherlock stared at the Doctor. Clara sighed and said, "We were looking into places where he hides out in the day, but we haven't had luck."

"What about the ravens, couldn't they tell you where this man is?" John asked. The Doctor responded instead of Clara. He said, "The ravens aren't as friendly as everyone thinks of them. They almost gouged out my bloody eyes when I tried to find our "friend's" hiding place."

"The ravens attacked you, why?" Sherlock watched the Doctor as he moved around the TARDIS. The Doctor stopped to reply, "I think I was getting too close for comfort."

John looked at them, "If he's that dangerous as you say he is, why hasn't anyone died? Why haven't we heard about him until now?"

"He recently arrived, John. Still, he's a dangerous man," the Doctor said. John flinched, "He's been feeding the homeless. And from what I've seen, no one's said anything ill about him much less die."

"Look here, Mr. Watson, he's no man. He _is_ no man. He's a machine," the Doctor stared at him. Clara cleared her throat, "What the Doctor means is he's not… a person."

Sherlock eyed her, "How do you mean?"

"There are things in this world that should not be, Sherlock," the Doctor responded.

Clara went around the TARDIS, looking for something until she found it and presented it to John. It was a cassette player with a cassette already inside. John played the newer version of the London Crow song. The way it went, it might've come from the late fifties if not earlier than that. John wasn't sure what year this version came out. It's sung by a young woman in her mid-thirties with an upbeat tempo in the background:

* * *

Have you seen the doctor man?  
The London Crow was his name,

A great hulking man with eyes,

That pierces even the Iron Maiden.

He lumbers through London in the night,

Always gone by dawn's light,

To where is a great question,

You'll never get an answer.

His eyes that which bewitch even the witches of the east.

His height keeps the beasts at bay.

Ghosts will turn white at the sight.

Bogeymen become scarce if they see him.

He'll haunt the ways that many have forgotten,

Those begotten might find him,

And never come around again.

The London Crow is no man,

No one quite knows what he is,

Other than the ravens adore him so.

And he will never answer a soul,

So no one will ever know.

Whatever he was, he isn't now.

And in any way that you see,

You'll never hear a peep.

The poor man will never speak,

He can never speak again,

Why is anyone's guess?

* * *

John crossed his arms, "Not to disregard the fact that we're in a bloody time machine, Doctor. But how could a… machine as you say arrive here in Sherwood?"

Clara looked at the Doctor and the Doctor shook his head. Sherlock then came to a startling conclusion. He looked at John, "Because John, he never existed in _our_ universe."

"Do you hear _yourself_?" John threw up his arms and stomped around the TARDIS. "Now you're going to tell me this bloke's an _alien_!"

He pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor gave a strange look and Clara looked at him. John and Sherlock both shared a look before they stared at the Doctor, dumbfounded. They each had a look on their faces. Sherlock tried to understand the implications while John looked at the Doctor. It was not and John buried his face with his hands, "I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming, I'm _dreaming_!"

"Maybe they should see it, Doctor," Clara suggested. The Doctor pondered then sighed, asking for her to get it. Clara went and disappeared into another part of the TARDIS and handed Sherlock a folder. He took it into his hands and looked through it. There was no way the papers are fakes, nor was the seal of approvals on some of them. This file was confidential, evident by the seals and red ink dotting pages. It was an investigation, signed and approved. Indeed, written in the files, someone had died.

A one Patrolman Alice Walker was on patrol one late night and was spooked by something. He requested an early termination of his patrol. The Base accepted his request and he was heading back to his vehicle when radio died. Alice was nowhere around the area during the search.

He was later found, slumped near a rubbish bin near the shores. His bones snapped until intense pressure, as if something had crushed him. The investigators haven't been certain on who could've killed Alice or why. The fact was, no one was sure what happened. Feeds from cameras were far and between, so it's hard to assume.

Shaking his head while muttering under his breath, the Doctor flicked his wrist. He pulled down several switches before pushing buttons. He glanced over his shoulder as John was coming toward the control panel. "You might want to brace yourself," the Doctor said to him and Sherlock. John glanced at him in return. The Doctor sighed and added, "You may find yourself stuck some place."

John peered at the control panel, lined with buttons, switches, levers, and the like. He watched as the Doctor touched them, as if he had been doing this for some time. It left John bemused. The Doctor and Clara actually existed and that time machines were possible. Clara smiled as she stepped near them and followed John's eyes as he kept up with the Doctor. "He knows what he's doing," she assured him. It seemed by the tone of her voice, people had before questioned the Doctor before on this matter. John turned his head to look at her. He shook his head and said, "I don't doubt that, at all."

"It's a miracle," the Doctor sneered. He flipped the final switched and turned around to face John. Sherlock continued to read through the files until the lights blinded him as they lit up the interior. The TARDIS continued to hum and both John and Sherlock stumbled around. Sherlock attempting to hold onto the files. The moment there was a bump, a common mishap explained by the Doctor, it sent John onto the floor. It caused Sherlock to spill the papers onto the grated floor. Sherlock managed to fall backwards as papers littered the ground. John groaned as he lay across the floor and moved his head to see a black and white photo peering back at him. It was none other than the Plague Doctor. The photograph looked to be from a surveillance camera that hung up on the streetlights. The static still present in the photograph. And it appeared that the Plague Doctor was near a marketplace. The location was London, Sherlock noted, but something about it was off. The marketplace, Churchill Markets, was something that Sherlock never even heard about. Sherlock was someone who always knew the hereabouts, whereabouts, anything that went on in London. If there was a marketplace such as the Churchill Markets, he'd heard about it.

It dawned on him he had brought this up before. The Plague Doctor was not from his and John's universe and it meant that there were other universes like theirs.

Sherlock continued to look over the photograph. The Plague Doctor was walking, his hat moved in the breeze. The bronze mask gleamed in the light and looked as if there were blotches on it. The cowl that wrapped around the Plague Doctor was leather, Sherlock could tell. Indeed, the Plague Doctor was a large foreboding machine. It was taller than Sherlock by almost 0.3 meter (1 FT.) Thin with a compact appearance that gave him a thin hourglass shape. His hands were large, larger than Sherlock's and John's hands combined. With wider gaps between the longer and thicker fingers too. Yet, the one thing that stuck out to Sherlock was the Plague Doctor's silver eyes.

His silver eyes glowed in the bright light. The pupils were not dilating as they should. Something about them gave Sherlock chills, a rarity. There was a chance those eyes were fake, his real eyes hidden under them. But Sherlock was someone who wouldn't necessary hide behind false notions.

The Doctor points as he stood near the control panel. "He's a dangerous machine. Much more than any mortal nemesis you two might've had over the years," he explains. John looked down to the files he held as well and stared at a photo of the Plague Doctor, his eyes were empty, soulless. He compared his photo with the one Sherlock had and they both gave each other a look.

"Doctor, could it be possible he might've discovered a wormhole?" Clara theorized. The Doctor pondered, "With the way he's wired, he picked up on a hotspot and mosey his way into this universe."

"What could he know about this universe to jump through a wormhole?" Clara continued to put together a theory. The Doctor rubbed his brow, "If he wasn't so wired, I'd be able to know."

The Doctor cleared his throat and looked at Sherlock and John. "Alright boys, let's get dangerous," he gave a smile.

"I wish he hadn't said that," John groaned. Sherlock stared, "What's your plan?"

"I need to know who programmed him and _why_," the Doctor said as he went to the door of the TARDIS.


	9. Chapter 9

"Take them. Show them when you're asked," the Doctor instructed as he gave John and Sherlock two ID holders. "Trust me, you'll need them."

He led them through the military facility, Clara following behind. Sherlock looked around, seeing things that never existed where he and John were from. John glanced at the posters, reading them. They were in London but something about it was different. Before he could form an idea they met with a man who had a stern look on his face. "Doctor," he looked at the Doctor. The Doctor bowed his head. The man then looked at John and Sherlock, "Who are you?"

They opened their ID holders for him to see, "Right then, welcome to UNIT, Mr. Benedict and Mr. Martin."

John and Sherlock looked at each other, bemused. Clara whispered to them that it would be best if they went along with it, reminding them both their fake names. John was Martin and Sherlock was Benedict. They should answer to those names for the rest of their time in UNIT. "Have you found him, Doctor?" Colonel Bradley asked the Doctor as he led them through UNIT. The Doctor nodded, "Aye, the locals have been fawning over him."

"He killed anyone, yet?" Bradley asked him. The Doctor shook his head, "He hasn't."

"Ah, you caught him in time," Bradley grimaced. The Doctor then said to him, "I need your help, Colonel Bradley."

"Of course, Doctor, we are in debt to you," Bradley nodded. "I need some sort of way to crack his programming," the Doctor explained. Bradley nodded, "Of course, Doctor, have the boys in the lab help."

John looked at Clara, "What's going on?"

"We can't deduce what he's programmed to do," Clara gave a look to the Doctor led by Bradley toward the lab area. Sherlock glanced around the area, "What is UNIT?"

"Let's just say they were a bane of the Doctor's existence at some point. But somehow down the line they became best of friends. Think you two, but without the politics," Clara summed. Sherlock caught a look by John. "If only that explained it," John sighed. A woman came up to the three with a look on her face, "Ma'am they're ready for you."

"Okay, thank you. Um, these gentlemen are my assistances; would it be alright if they came along?" Clara pointed at John and Sherlock. The woman looked at them. "I'm Martin," John smiled. Sherlock gave a small nod, "Benedict."

Lieutenant Moya, led the three through the heavy corridors, guarded by two soldiers. It was a large room, with rows of computers helmed by men and women. Moya took them to the farthest part of the room where two technicians showed them a computer. On the screen was camera footage taken from a helmet from a patrolman in the SoHo area of London. When given the go-ahead from Moya, the technicians played the footage.

A song played faintly in the background. The patrolman had been listening to music for the past hour to pass the time. The song switched to an ad, indicating he had been listening to the radio during his patrol. The patrolman was coming up the side of a market where he stopped and looked around. He pressed a button and the radio stopped. "Hello?" he called out. He continued to check around, when he found nothing; he resumed the radio and continued to patrol. He went through an alley known to some undesirables. He was coming out of the exit when he noticed a raven perched on a streetlight. Its amber eyes glowing like two orbs. The patrolman gave a laugh, asking the raven if it seen anything out of the ordinary. He was going toward another alley when he saw another raven perched on a sign hanging above a storefront. It cawed at him, and the caw was a gurgled mechanic noise. It was nothing like anything John or Sherlock ever heard before. Unsettled, the Patrolman proceeded to enter the alley. He held his flashlight low to the ground. "Patrolman Alice to base, I haven't seen anything, over?"

"Confirmed, Patrolman Alice, Base is requesting you do a roundabout and return, confirm?" replied a man on the walkie talkie. Patrolman Alice responded, "Confirmed."

He continued through the alley until he reached the end. Ravens perched along the side of the buildings, looking down at the patrolman. As Patrolman Alice looked at them, a song played on the radio, "He's the man behind the mask and he's out of control."

Patrolman Alice held the walkie talkie to his mouth, "Patrolman Alice to Base."

"Base reporting, what's your status?" the man asked. "Base, there is an unusual presence of ravens. The damnedest thing is they all have amber eyes, over?"

"Ravens don't have amber eyes," the man reasoned. Patrolman Alice shook his head, "They do! And they're looking at me, over?"

"You are the only one out in the SoHo area," the man continued to reason. Patrolman Alice gave a look to the ravens and they in turn looked at him. "Um, requesting to end patrol, over?"

"Hold on," the man disappeared, radio silence. Patrolman Alice looked at the ravens that followed his move as he walked. He tried to hum along to the song, attempting to calm himself. He almost jumped when the man came over the walkie talkie. The man said, "Accepted, return to base effective immediately, Patrolman Alice."

"Confirmed, Base, Patrolman Alice, out," Patrolman Alice sighed and turned back. He was almost to the entrance of the alley when he heard a noise. He turned around and saw someone standing at the end of the alley. Patrolman Alice raised his flashlight revealing a tall man that dwarfed Patrolman Alice. The tall man must've been 2.4 meters (8'0") and lo and behold he was none another than the Plague Doctor. The light from the patrolman's flashlight reached the eyes and remained dilated. "Halt!" Patrolman Alice said to the Plague Doctor. "Don't move!"

The patrolman edged near him and he didn't move. "Identify yourself!"

"Identify yourself!" Patrolman Alice began to shout at the Plague Doctor. But for naught, the Plague Doctor didn't respond, nor moved from his spot. When the patrolman tried to contact Base, the walkie talkie was dead. He panicked as he tried to work the walkie talkie with one hand. He stared as the Plague Doctor lowered his hulking head to look at him. The flashlight moved to capture the bronze mask and the eyes. The eyes flickered from pure silver to red orbs of light. The patrolman screamed and turned, running. On his radio that suddenly blared, him accidentally hitting the volume button that turned it up. The song continued, "Oh, if you see him coming, get away from him if you can. Just keep on running, run as fast as you can. He's a dangerous, dangerous, man. And he's out tonight. And he's watching you. And he knows your house."

The patrolman continued to run, his arms flaying. He screamed aloud for someone to help him as he ran through the alleys he patrolled. He dropped his walkie talkie that begun to shrill incoherently as he ran past some establishments. Running into a stall, Patrolman Alice fell onto the ground, fruit spilling over the road. He glimpsed to ravens concentrating on the sides of the buildings, all looking down at him. Patrolman Alice sprung up and continued to run through the empty street. The patrolman struggled to turn the volume down as he ran. He hoped to run back to the van stationed at the beginning of the SoHo area just before he began his nightly patrol. As he ran he looked up to see ravens flying overhead. Just as he was middle of the last alley before the van, he tripped and fell onto the ground. The camera temporary obscured by the ground as Patrolman Alice groaned. As he raised his head, the camera continuing to roll, there before him were a pair heavyset boots. Patrolman Alice looked up, the camera slowing moving up. Frame by frame, until it stopped at the Plague Doctor whose eyes burned red as he stared down at the patrolman. The flashlight was on the Plague Doctor as it rolled to his feet. His foot moved as it stepped on the flashlight, shattering the glass and flattening it with no effort. As Patrolman Alice stared, his radio turned up max volume. The last of the song played with a mechanic gurgle, "And he's after your soul."

The camera feed stopped there with a deafening shrill, then silence. Moya explained that they found him hours later, what remained of him, anyway. "Did you ever find out why it attacked him?" John asked her. Moya shook her head, "No. It was completely random."

"Unless," Sherlock interrupted them both. "It had to do with the flashlight."


	10. Chapter 10

"Benedict, I don't think the flashlight caused him to _kill_ a man!" John hissed at Sherlock, almost forgetting that they were using fake names. Sherlock wrote on the whiteboard, "If he was as dangerous as everyone says he is. Why didn't you get attacked?"

John pondered, "He _did_ lead me to critical evidence."

"Exactly..!" Sherlock pointed behind him. He wrote out theories after theories. He only stopped when he came across one that he'd never consider on normal basis. "The Doctor said that this thing was a machine, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did," Clara nodded. Sherlock pointed, "What are machines and robots prone to do?"

Clara pondered. John tried to think of an answer. He stopped and looked to Sherlock, "They're prone to having bugs."

"Precisely," Sherlock nodded. "He's a machine. Which means he has his own bugs, one of them involves bright lights."

"That would account for the attack," Moya blinked. Clara nodded, "What if the bug mistakes bright light as an act of aggression?"

"You're saying light causes him to go berserk?" John looked at Sherlock. Sherlock grabbed for the marker and began to write on the whiteboard. "Remember those animatronics from the pizzeria. They had to ban cameras from using flash because it messes up the animatronics?" Sherlock glanced behind him. John nodded. He stopped, "They said that it resets the animatronics."

"Right," Sherlock continued to write on the whiteboard. John shook his head, "He didn't go berserk when the flames from the homeless' barrel rose up and lit up his eyes."

"It has to be bright, brighter than fire. Brighter than streetlight, brighter than the moon!" Sherlock said fervently. John blinked, "The flashlight the patrolman used was pretty bright."

"Yes, exactly… Martin," Sherlock nodded. "I believe old flashlights don't affect him, but newer flashlights…"

"Would cause problems because they're brighter than the old ones. And some of those new ones you can concentrate the light," John finished. Sherlock sat the marker down, "I believe we have our cause. The patrolman flashes light into the Plague Doctor's eyes. The flashlight is brighter than older models so it's strong enough to cause the attack."

"But, why did he attack the patrolman?" Moya asked him. Clara then answered instead, "Because of the programming."

"Precisely, Clara," Sherlock nods. "His programming must be so full of bugs he must be crawling with them! Whoever programmed him did a shoddy job of it."

"But, then who made a robot and dressed him like a damn plague doctor?" John blinked. Sherlock shrugged, "I don't know."

"That's why the Doctor wants to crack his programming," Clara told them.

Sherlock looked at Clara, "How would he go about it?"

"I don't know, Benedict, it's the Doctor we're talking about," Clara sighed. They soon left for the labs to see how the Doctor was doing on his end. Sherlock and John falling back as Clara and Moya walked ahead. John shook his head, "Bloody hell, this reminds me of a Christmas special!"

"Stay sharp, John. There's still more things that meets the eye," Sherlock eyed him. John sighed, "I can't believe it though, and who would program a robot to go universe hopping?"

"Who's to know, John," Sherlock held his hands behind his back as he walked, pondering to himself. John rubbed his eyes, "Is it too much to pray this is a dream?"

"Yes," Sherlock marched on. John watched him catch up with Clara and Moya, John shook his head as he followed Sherlock close behind.


	11. Chapter 11

The Doctor stared at the men in the labs. They were tapping on the keys of a large computer. The scientist beside the Doctor said, "Doctor, I don't know if this will work. We don't even have a sample of his coding."

"How did you not get one?" the Doctor scorned him. The scientist raised his hand in defense. He shook his head, "Doctor, we've told this several time. We cannot bypass his security measures. We've tried many times before; we just can't get through it."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" the Doctor looked at him. The scientist on the other side of them raised a hand before answering. He said, "Maybe we can change your Sonic Screwdriver, get as close as you can to the thing and sort of, hack it. Hack it enough and get the codes that we need and we can shut it down in no time."

"Might work," the Doctor nodded. He then stopped, "Are we sure there's no wood in that thing?"

"Pretty sure, Doctor," the scientists said to him. He nodded, "Alright, but if you break it, you're buying me a new one."

"We know, Doctor," the scientists replied. They proceeded to write a code on it that would send to the Plague Doctor upon activating it. The idea was the code would break through a security hole. Thus allowing UNIT and the Doctor devise a way to stop the Plague Doctor.

The Doctor turned his head to see Clara and the duo coming behind them. He looked at them, "Well, we have some way of breaking into his programming."

"Doctor, how would you know if that works unless you get close to him?" Clara watched the men hand back his Sonic Screwdriver and wielded it. The Doctor sighed, "I've dealt with the Vashta Nerada, the Daleks, the Cybermen, before. This might as well be cakewalk."

"What do you think, Doctor?" Clara asked him. He shrugged, "It's no different than the Cybermen."

"But Doctor, why would a robot from _this _universe come to ours?" Sherlock asked him. The Doctor shrugged, "Who knows. Maybe whoever programmed him is looking for a Christmas invasion. I'm a mind reader, but even I can't read everyone's mind."

"Wait, you're a mind reader?" John stared at the Doctor. The Doctor sighed, "Yeah, I am. It's a perk to being an alien. I don't use it often, I'm a proper gentleman, I don't use it unless I have to."

"And you've lied, from what I gather, so how would I know you're telling the truth?" John asked him. The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Oh what, you want me to prove it?"

"Gentlemen," Clara touched their arms. The Doctor shrugged her off and stared at John, "You were in a time machine. I'm a damn alien. There's a crazed robot running around your damn universe. And you don't believe that I'm a mind reader?"

"Considering what I am going through, I reserve the right to doubt," John challenged. The Doctor chortled, "Oh, you're asking it, lad. Tell you what, why don't I read your damn mind and see what damn things about you, you don't want said?"

John cleared his throat and pointed to Sherlock, "Why don't you read his mind?"

Sherlock and the Doctor looked at him. John crossed his arms, "If you're a mind reader, then you won't have a problem reading Mr. Spock. That is if you can do it."

"You're asking for it, lad," the Doctor sneered. John stepped back. Clara shook her head, "Boys, can we please be civil?"

"I'll be civil when this idiot stops challenging me every time something that goes against what he's used to comes up," the Doctor pointed at John. Clara gabbed their ears and twisted them, "I had enough of you lot picking fights. Enough of the fighting or you'll get more than a bruised ear. Now I'll tell you what, Doctor, read Benedict's mind and prove to Martin you're a mind reader. When you're done you can read Martin's mind as a reprisal. Then, when you're done acting like a bunch of ingrained buffoons you can act civil again, understood?"

The Doctor and John struggled as she had firm hands on their ears. The Doctor sputtered, "Yes."

John sputtered as well, "Fine."

Clara allowed them to go free and they both held their ears in agony. Giving each other sordid looks before the Doctor cleared his throat and began to mind read.

The Doctor stepped in front of Sherlock as he stuffed his Sonic Screwdriver into his coat pocket. "Alright, let me know if you feel a slight hemorrhage or similar," the Doctor looked at Sherlock. Sherlock gave a nod and the Doctor proceeded to concentrate his mind. He began to say things that only Sherlock knew. The Doctor blinked, "Come now Benedict, you faked being sick so you didn't go to the opera with your parents. You made Mycroft go in your place?"

Sherlock blinked and had a look on his face. He nodded, "He made me go to Les Miserable on his behalf."

"Alright, looks like I'm able to read some of your thoughts," the Doctor nodded, he gave a sneer to John. He then continued to read. He readthe idea that the flashlight was responsible for the attack. How bright lights affected the Plague Doctor, among other things. The Doctor muttered, "Clever."

After concluding that he can read Sherlock's complicated thoughts, the Doctor read John's. It was payback for questioning him at any chance he had among other things. The Doctor crossed his arms, "Really? You hid Benedict's cigarettes in the _fishbowl_?"

John groaned, "He wasn't supposed to know that!"

"Why did you hide them in the fishbowl?" Sherlock asked. John sighed, "Because I figured hiding them in the fireplace would be too obvious."

"No it wasn't," Sherlock shook his head. John rubbed his eyes, "Now you tell me."

"Alright, you gained about ten pounds and told Mary you lost five," the Doctor continued. John raised his hands, "Can we stop now, please? By the time he's done I'm going to need to invest in some sort of Chasity for my brain!"

The Doctor chuckled, "Martin, there's already a Chasity for your brain."

"There is?" John blinked. The Doctor nodded, "Think of a giant wall—like the Great Wall, no doors, no openings, not even a window. There—there's your Chasity."

"Oi," John sighed. The Doctor nodded and chuckled, "Now next time you get into a dispute with a Time Lord you damn well know well enough now to back down and shut it."

"Now that you boys had your fun, Doctor, how are you going to get close enough to use your Sonic Screwdriver on him?" Clara pointed. The Doctor chuckled, "Oh Clara, how naïve you are. I already have that worked out."

"You have?" he looked at them. The Doctor smiled, "Oh, of course. You know me Clara, I always have a plan."

"Well, what is it?" John asked.

"I can't do this in your universe, so I'll have to get him back here. The only way to do that is give a nice influx of energy to draw him back," the Doctor touched his chin . "How would you do that?" Sherlock looked at him. The Doctor sighed, "UNIT has a way to produce artificial influx. It's not as big as the one that he used to get into your universe, but enough that he can't ignore."

"Then after that, then what?" John asked. The Doctor gave a knowing look to him, "I know you ran track back in school. You won four gold medals and a silver, you polish them every once a while when they get dusty."

"Oh no," John groaned. "I'm not playing bait."

"You're not bait, Martin," the Doctor assured him. John stared, "I'm not?"

"No, no, you're going to get him to chase you," the Doctor pointed. John's face turned white. He shook his head, "What if I trip, fall, or some other?"

"Don't worry about it, you'll be fine, I promise you this much," the Doctor gave him a comforting grin. "What-what about Benedict…?" John asked him. The Doctor chuckled, "He's going to help me corral the Plague Doctor. Clara you'll remain with UNIT to keep track on his hereabouts."

"Right," Clara nodded. Sherlock looked at the Doctor, "Corral?"

"You won't be in any danger so long you follow my instructions, you too Martin," the Doctor smiled. John rubbed his eyes, "Will someone please wake me up from this nightmare?"

"Like you have a choice," the Doctor gave a mocking giggle. Moya led them to Bradley who was going over the map with dots indicating known locations. Bradley sighed, "He's going to be tricky."

"How goes the energy influx?" the Doctor asked him. He shrugged, "We got it to your specifications, Doctor, but I don't know if it'll draw him back."

"It will," the Doctor assured him. "Have you gotten your men in position?"

"Aye, Doctor, they're wearing the camouflage you specified," Bradley nodded. The Doctor sighed, "Alright, add this in. Instruct your men to not flash bright lights into his eyes."

"Done," Bradley gestured to a cadet to radio in the instruction. The Doctor looked down at the map and pointed, "Martin, you'll lead him to Churchill. When you arrive there will be soldiers positioned on the corner that'll lead you to safety. Knowing him he'll arrive close to the SoHo area and come around the bend. The ravens will be present, so Colonel, make sure the men on the roofs have those nets ready."

"Aye," Bradley nodded. The Doctor rubbed his eyes, "Daleks are less complicated than this."

"All they do is shout, "exterminate"," Clara looked at him. The Doctor popped his back as his stretched, "And the Cybermen say "delete"."

Sherlock looked at John and John looked at him. John gritted his teeth, "Why is it that I'm the bait?"

"You run fast," Sherlock shrugged. John shook his head, "I've seen you run faster than me, plenty of times."

"Name one instance," Sherlock challenged. John smiled, "When you were dealing with those fan girls from your website."

"Fine, I can run fast when the need arises, but the Doctor chose you, so there's that," Sherlock gave a look to John. John sighed, "Just remember what they say about Karma."

"I don't believe in Karma, Martin, you know that," Sherlock smirked. John sighed and shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up next to Mary and I just had an odd dream from watching too much telly before bed."

"I'm sure it'll write an interesting story for the blog, though," Sherlock eyed him. John gritted his teeth, "But She—Benedict, how am I going to write a blog with this?"

"You're an author, I suppose you'll know how to edit things out as it goes," Sherlock smiled. John pinched himself, hoping that it'd jolt him awake. He tried this twice on both arms, held his breath, and tried to mentally jolt awake, but nothing worked. This was no dream and he's forced into that realization whether he liked it or not. He hoped it was one of those dreams, the kind that looked so vivid and lucid that it looked real. "Sir," a cadet called for Bradley. "What is it cadet?" Bradley looked. "There's an energy spike near West and Nottingham," replied the cadet. The Doctor gritted his teeth, "Oh, isn't he the prompt one. Alright, everyone know their parts? Good. Benedict with me and Bradley have a man lead Martin to his position."


	12. Chapter 12

John walked on the cobbled pathway, it was cold and quiet, fog slowly formed over the river. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder, expecting someone there. Of course, there wasn't anyone. John continued to walk; he heard his own footsteps as he reached the bridge. This area was far different from the one he was accustomed to, it had a dated look compared to its more modern counterpart, however it was the same and he had no problems maneuvering around. John looked down to his breath that showed through the cold and he chewed on his lips, "I can't bloody believe this."

John moved into the alley, he continued to think to himself. He wondered if anyone noticed that he and Sherlock had gone missing, how long it's been since they were gone, and worried about Mary. He fretted about Mary, how she must be feeling since he disappeared. He bemoaned that he should have never joined Sherlock on this case, but then reminded himself that it was against his sense of morale to think such things. After all, even though Sherlock had put John through Hell and back, even though he had almost gotten him killed several times, Sherlock was his friend, whether he actually liked it or not.

As John moved toward the end of the alley, out toward what appeared to be a park with a greenhouse, he stopped and glanced up. There sitting on the sign for a coffee shop, was a raven looking straight at him with its amber eyes. John felt his blood turn cold as the raven looked into his eyes, he wondered if it recognized him or possibly even know why he's there, however it was John wouldn't know because he heard in the distance heavy footsteps. He was reminded of the heavy footsteps that signified to the Plague Doctor's appearance; the footsteps sounded the same, with faint metallic sounds. John felt his heart slowly race, he panicked inside his brain, his eyes swiftly looking around, questioning where the Plague Doctor was coming from. His answer came, when he saw in the distance in the thickened sheets of fogs, a tall dark figure, when it appeared the raven cawed and flew off the sign and toward it. The figure's arm reached out and the raven perched itself on it, the figure stroking the raven before it flew off again, over the building.

John gritted his teeth; he didn't want to do this, nay he did not _want_ to do this. He dared not anger the Plague Doctor but then remembered that the Doctor was counting on him. "I don't want to do this," John exhaled. "I do not _want_ to do this."

Against every notion John ever had about angering someone who towered even Sherlock, who had the nature that even most of the nemeses that Sherlock and John encountered never had, John sucked it up and strolled. It crossed his mind, the possible scenarios that ever existed, what could've happened if he failed. He dreaded the outcome of them, the scenarios, they never said exactly what happened to Patrolman Alice and if it was serious enough to ask the Doctor for help, then surely whatever the Plague Doctor was capable of doing he would do to John if he caught him. John hated his mind for stating that fact.

John strolled, pretending to not notice the Plague Doctor in the distant. He quietly told himself to walk, walk as if he didn't see the Plague Doctor, walk as if he didn't see the raven. He continued this until he got close enough to see the faint features of the bronze mask; he then noticed the silver eyes poking through the eyeholes. John shirked in his spot; he grabbed something out of his pocket that the Doctor gave him just before he was sent on this goose chase. It would anger the Plague Doctor, enough to chase John, but it'll give John a ten minute head start. "Oi…! Olly Olly Oxen free!" John cried out as he threw the silver orb at the Plague Doctor's feet, the Plague Doctor looked down and the orb glowed violently, lighting up the Plague Doctor's eyes.

John took no time in turning around and began to run. He put those years he was on track to good use, he didn't stop for one minute, he felt his lungs compressing under the stress as he forced himself through the alley, through the main street and toward where he was supposed to go. John glanced up to the skies, expecting to see the ravens flying overhead, he noticed they were gone and it meant that they were rounded up. The Doctor theorized that with the ravens captured, the Plague Doctor will become relentless, and it meant that John would have to huff it if he wants to go home to Mary in one piece. John counted down in his head, he knew by the time he'd reach one, the Plague Doctor would be coming after him. "The things I do for people!" John managed to shout as he continued to run. He only prayed that the soldiers would be there as instructed, to help him away from the wraith of the Plague Doctor, so that Sherlock and the Doctor could do the rest. "God, if I live through this, I promise to not eat meat on Christmas or Easter, gentleman's agreement!"

Which meant if John did survive, he would have to refrain himself from eating Mary's minced pies on those holidays, and considering his situation, it would be cakewalk to refuse, after all, John reasoned, there would always be leftovers after a big supper on those holidays anyway. So, in theory, he could have his minced pies and eat them too, just as soon as he is safe and sound. John would continue to run until he came to the beginning of his stroll, he breathed heavily through his nostrils and mouth as he had hands on his knees. He had to take a quick break, he felt his heart beat against his ribs as he pushed himself up and stopped. John felt a presence behind him and he felt his heart sunk, he slightly turned his head to catch a glimpse of red eyes staring at him. John whimpered, "Sherlock… Doctor…?"

He heard his name and turned to see the Doctor and Sherlock waving their hands, John sprinted toward them, and they pushed him behind them. John sprinted to the open arms of the UNIT soldiers; he was pushed into a Humvee where he sat on the metal bench inside, holding a hand over his chest. John gasped for air, "Bloody hell, I feel like I raced a marathon!"


	13. Chapter 13

The Doctor and Sherlock looked at the Plague Doctor as his red eyes burnt brightly through the darkness. The Doctor looked at Sherlock, "I'd say he's angry, you?"

"Oh, I think he is," Sherlock nodded. The Plague Doctor approached them and Sherlock wielded up another stunner shaking his head, "I wouldn't come near us."

The Plague Doctor tilted his head at Sherlock, Sherlock nodded. The Doctor wielded his Sonic Screwdriver at the Plague Doctor, "Come on, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

The Plague Doctor stared at the Sonic Screwdriver, looking at it as if he didn't understand what it was. The Doctor grinned, "Ah, you would've been lucky if you were made of wood, it doesn't work on wood, but I know for a fact that you're not made of wood. Now, what's it going to be?"

Sherlock kept the stunner in the air, ready to throw it if the Plague Doctor attempted to attack anyway. Instead the Plague Doctor kept starring, he did not move toward them nor made any attempts, did he simply stare. The Doctor and Sherlock then witnessed a grisly sight, the Plague Doctor tilted his head slowly back and forth, as if something else was irritating him, through the nostril slit of the bronze mask, rather large carrion beetle, bigger than ones either two had seen over their own adventures, flew out and landed at the Doctor's feet, its tiny legs attempting to cling to an invisible ground, it was covered in darkish red goop. Sherlock's face showed nothing but pure disgust at the sight and the Doctor was left simply awestruck. The carrion beetle tried to move side to side, attempting to push itself back on its stomach, but on the Doctor's order, Sherlock took it up in a handkerchief he kept around for something like this. Sherlock retreated behind the Doctor and the Doctor was just simply staring at the Plague Doctor. "Um, Doctor, what is going on?" Sherlock looked him. The Doctor shrugged, "I honestly don't know."

The Plague Doctor stared at them both and the Doctor cringed. The Doctor looked over to Sherlock, "Throw down a stunner after I zap him."

"Right," Sherlock nodded. The Doctor then looked back at the Plague Doctor, "Alright, let's see what you got."

He then pushed the button, and the Plague Doctor almost immediately reacted to the sight. When it was finished, the Doctor turned, told Sherlock to throw and so he did. The stunner landed at the Plague Doctor's feet and it exploded in a ball of light, allowing the two to run away however it didn't go as it planned. For starters, they were so fixated in running they plum forgot where to go from there. They hadn't seen the UNIT Humvees nor have they seen command post.

They both ran at warp speed, as fast as their legs could carry them. The Doctor felt his two hearts beating against each other as they came toward a grocery store; he had to stop as he felt his hearts kicking him several times for doing this. Heavy breathing and two strained hearts and lungs were something the Doctor never got over, not even in his youth he never had the fortitude some of his companions had. He rubbed his eyes, coated in sweat, the Doctor turned around to find that they were in front of apartment buildings, he kept looking into yonder for any sign of the Plague Doctor but so far the Plague Doctor had been keen. The Doctor's mind had a thought of its own, how the Plague Doctor was going to run them both into the ground so neither could fight back when the Plague Doctor decided to drop the game and go after them finally.

Sherlock had a firm hand on the nearest wall and felt his heart beating. It never beaten that fast nor that hard before and Sherlock felt like he was about to drop dead right then and there but managed to hold on long enough for the Doctor to compose himself and look around. Sherlock shook his head, "How can we outrun him, Doctor?"

"I don't know, I honestly don't know," the Doctor admitted. Sherlock cringed as he tried to pace his breathing, "Well, have you got a plan?"

"Damn it," the Doctor leaned against the wall; he felt his two hearts beat against one another and it was enough for the Doctor to gasp as he tried to breathe. Sherlock looked around, attempting to see the Plague Doctor. He chewed on his lips, "Isn't it possible for him to reset?"

"Oh, I don't bloody know," the Doctor shook his head as he wiped away the sweat that accumulated on his eyes. Sherlock looked around, "He couldn't have gone far, could he?"

"I do not want to discuss that notion with you, Sherlock," the Doctor groaned as he rested his head against the cold concrete, he cringed as he tried to move his throbbing legs. They were unable to run and they both knew it would be at any time that the Plague Doctor would've come for them. The Doctor wielded his Sonic Screwdriver as a last ditch effort and he glanced over to Sherlock who managed to stand up straight, "Interesting day, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Doctor," Sherlock hissed as he rubbed the underside of his nose. They waited and waited, until it looked as if the Plague Doctor simply disappeared. They were both bemused and terrified, they had no idea where he gone and there was no way he'd simply leave. As they were about to discuss alternatives they got a jolt of fear from Clara as she appeared before them, making the Doctor almost wield his Sonic Screwdriver against her. They both scowled at her, "Clara?"

"Who else…?" Clara shrugged. Sherlock stared at her, "Why are you out here?"

"I got scared waiting for you idiots so I left the command post to look for you," Clara told him.

"You snuck away from UNIT?" the Doctor stared at Clara. She nodded, "Well how did you think I got out here the first place?"

"Fair point," the Doctor sighed as he and Sherlock hobbled, trying to keep with Clara as they tried to walk. The moment they stopped for a short time, the Doctor propped himself against the side of the nearest building and had a hand on his chest, he took deep breathes and shook his head, "Bloody hell, I'm getting too old for this."

Sherlock held his chest as well, cringing, "Well, John can't say I don't exercise."

"Ha, you ought to come out to my TARDIS sometime, I'll put you through your paces," the Doctor chortled. Sherlock peaked behind the building, narrowing his view, "I don't see him."

Eventually, they made it back to command post and the Doctor and Sherlock were brought to the infirmary upon their return to UNIT. The Doctor handed the scientists his Sonic Screwdriver and rested on the cot, he continued to hear his two hearts beating rapidly as he tried to relax. Sherlock had no choice but to take off his coat and scarf and rubbed away the sweat that matted under his hair, "Unbelievable."

"Do you think it'll work, Doctor?" Clara asked him as she handed him a bottle of water. The Doctor took it into his hands and drank it down until there was nothing less. He then responded, "God I hope so."

Clara fetched bottle water for Sherlock and he drank his empty as well. Sherlock glanced over to the other side to see that John was also recovering from his marathon, having pulled a muscle in his leg. John groaned, "Please, let this be a dream."


	14. Chapter 14

The Doctor and the other two spent time in the infirmary, Clara had gone off to fetch them something to snack on. John looked at Sherlock, "And this is why I quit running."

"I see that, John," Sherlock groaned as he turned away from him. The Doctor shook his head, "Can't bloody believe it, and he didn't attack us at all."

"We got what you were looking for and you're complaining how a giant machine thing didn't attack us?" John tried to look at the Doctor. The Doctor chortled, "Oh shut up, idiot!"

"I don't understand, why didn't he chase us?" Sherlock rubbed his eyes as he felt his heart settle. The Doctor shrugged, "Who knows?"

"Well, Doctor, consider this as my two week notice. I'm not going to be bait for you, anymore," John told him as he shifted in his spot. The Doctor nodded, "Likewise."

"Oi, I take this is almost like what you encounter in your adventures, isn't it, Doctor?" Sherlock looked over to the Doctor. The Doctor nodded, "Aye, this is what I have to put up with, while you two deal with idiots in costumes I'm dealing with a _machine_ in a costume!"

"They don't make plots like those anymore," John sighed. The Doctor rubbed his eyes, "Well, let's hope this works."

"Likewise," he heard John and Sherlock say. Clara came back with some snacks she scrounged up and handed them off. The Doctor received a bag of Jelly Babies that he immediately devoured with no inclination as to whether he was actually tasting them or not. John and Sherlock ate the sandwiches that Clara found that they'd both eat. Clara looked at them all, "Well, are you done being idiots to one another?"

"Not by a long shot, my dear," the Doctor raised a Jelly Baby with his hand as he popped it into his mouth. "Not by a _long_ shot."

"Agreed," John coughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I was never part of their squabble."

"Oh I wouldn't say," John looked at him. Sherlock blinked, "What did _I_ do?"

"Oh, what did _you_ do?" John stared at him intently. He chewed his lips before he told Sherlock, "Because of your bloody _insistence_ in blowing things out of proportion, we're stuck in a whole different universe, being chased by the bloody _Tin Man_. If you'd just solved the damn broker's murder, none of this would've ever happened!"

"You're saying it's _my_ fault?" Sherlock looked at him. John nodded, "Yep. Because _you_ sent _me_ on a wild goose chase, ya damn idiot!"

"I never said you _had_ to do it!" Sherlock shouted at him. John scoffed, "And when I don't you come up with a sad pathetic sob story about some damn thing to get my pity!"

"I never did that!" Sherlock shook his head. John rolled his eyes, "No because in order for you to do it you have to come to terms that you're doing it!"

"Enough of it from _both_ of you, regardless of whether or not you would've missed out on this entirely is to be seen. So for my sake, shut up and quiet down and Doctor, if you poke the hornet nest one more time, I swear I'll leave you on the _sun_!" Clara growled at all of them. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breathe. Things settled in the infirmary and Clara eventually left to go to the TARDIS, allowing the three men to sit around the infirmary. John scowled at Sherlock and Sherlock scowled back, the Doctor scowled at both of them. "I cannot _believe_ you did this to me, Sherlock," John stared at him. Sherlock scoffed, "Well how was I supposed to know _this_ would happen?"

"Oh, I'm sorry; didn't you say that you were a detective? So Mr. Detective, why didn't you _detect_?" John pointed. Sherlock rolled his eyes. The Doctor shook his head, "And you two are supposed to be the world renowned duo that solves crime?"

"At least we don't travel in a police box," John looked at him. The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Oh, I'm sorry, should I've come in a Bentley?"

Sherlock sighed, "There's no point in fighting. We're stuck together until this is resolved."

John looked to the ground and took a deep breathe, "I just wanted to go home, is that so much to ask for?"


	15. Chapter 15

A scientist looked down on the squirming carrion beetle that tried to scuttle away but was unable to as it was kept in place with prongs on the table. He looked through the magnifying glass in front of him; the carrion beetle was amber colored with dark grooves on the back, it had a long horn with a sharp tip curbed upright, almost looking like it was the letter 'W'. However, what the scientist caught was interesting enough; it too had amber eyes, just as the ravens. "Amber eyes, interesting," he muttered under his breath. The younger scientist beside him looked, "But don't most insects have amber eyes anyway, Grissom?"

Grissom sighed as he looked at the beetle, "Yes, they do."

"A carrion beetle hocked up by a machine," the younger scientist mused. Grissom nodded, "Alive at that. If it's a machine as everyone is saying, why isn't it dead?"

"Maybe its internal mechanics keep it warm?" the younger scientist suggested. Grissom looked down at the carrion beetle, its amber eyes glistening in the light. He shook his head, "It would've starved anyway."

"How did it get into that thing anyway?" he heard the younger scientist. He lightly prodded the beetle with the tip of the scalpel; he tilted his head, "This beetle's covered in blood."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked him. Grissom showed the sticky substance that it encased the outer wings of the beetle. Nick fetched a Q-tip for Grissom and Grissom lightly dabbed it against the beetle's back, enough to get a decent sample. He requested the handheld test kit and Nick brought it to him, he then dabbed the Q-tip in the respected slot and waited. He had a look on his face as he showed Nick, "Its human."

"Human?" Nick questioned as he looked at the test. It was positive and Nick shook his head in disbelief. "No way, that can't be. It's got to be cross-contamination."

Grissom sighed, "Carrion beetle consume their weight in flesh. Hand me the dish."

Nick did so and Grissom shook his head at the beetle, "I'm sure you'll not be the last we get."

Grissom grabbed for the scalpel again, beginning to cut deeply into the beetle as it squirmed in the prongs. Amber colored substance poured out of the incision, Nick collecting it with a vial while Grissom poked around the insides, looking for remnants of what the beetle ate. He stopped when his scalpel lightly touched something and reached for the tweezers, gently prodded the tender flesh of the beetle and pulled out a roundish object caked with the amber substance. With a spray bottle, Grissom lightly sprayed the object until he noticed it was whitish yellow with the dried amber substance still clinging on it. Nick fetched him a brush and he lightly brushed away the dried amber substance until they were met with a horrible sight. It was an eroded incisor, with markings on it indicating the beetle had been chewing on it prior to swallowing it whole. Nick shirked in his spot, "Do you think it ate him, Patrolman Alice?"

"I don't know, Nick," Grissom shook his head. Grissom then continued to prod the corpse of the beetle until he pulled out another sight: it was stiff, amber colored, and Grissom noted it looked to be flesh from the cheek. However, something about it bothered him, it was flesh, but it wasn't like flesh he had seen during his time. It was not fresh, that was for sure, but it was not rotted in any way shape or form, he had Nick send their findings to forensic. While Nick was out of the lab again, Grissom looked at the beetle and his head tilted. For a man who had studied insects for the entirely of his life, he couldn't tell what species this carrion beetle was. He fetched for his references on his book shelf near the table and flipped through the pages, neither were the amber colored beetle with a horn and amber eyes. He would continue to make observations until Nick returned. Nick asked him, "Any luck?"

"No, I looked through everything I had. Nothing looks anything remotely like it," Grissom shook his head. Nick blinked, "What are you saying; Mr. Benedict found a new species of carrion beetles?"

"I don't know," Grissom sighed. He then stopped, "I'll need more to study it properly."

"Well, I'm not sure Mr. Benedict or the Doctor are willing to go round two with it so," Nick shrugged. Grissom tilted his head, "I'm not asking them to try to get another. I want to go where it's been and find more. I believe that this beetle was kicked out."

"So, you're saying that there's a colony of beetles living inside this thing? What do they eat when they're not inside?" Nick asked him. Grissom stood up and tugged on his coat, "I don't rightly know. That's why I'm going to find out. Stay with the lab and report the findings."

"Aye, captain," Nick watched as Grissom left the lab.

Grissom walked through the UNIT halls until he came to the infirmary where he saw the Doctor and his cohorts inside. He entered and bowed his head, introducing himself. The Doctor looked at him, "What have you found from the beetle?"

Grissom shook his head, "I'm sorry, but protocols."

"Of course, always the damned protocols," the Doctor shook his head. He then stopped and looked, "What do you want?"

"I need to get more speciesism," Grissom told him. The Doctor balked at him, "Why for?"

"Please. You don't have to chase him down again, I just need to know where he's been," Grissom explained. The Doctor tilted his head, "How do you know there's more beetles?"

"You found one didn't you?" Grissom shrugged. The Doctor sighed, "I'll be sure to send any I find."

Grissom balked at him in return, "Doctor, this beetle was primed to start an entire new colony. However, I don't know if it can survive outside the machine's body."

"Why was there a carrion beetle in him anyway?" John asked Grissom. Grissom shrugged, "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

"I couldn't recognize it, what species is it?" Sherlock looked at Grissom who then shrugged again. Clara blinked, "What do you think?"

"I think this is an entirely new species of carrion beetle. I won't know for sure until I can get a handful, alive," Grissom said. The Doctor rubbed his eyes, "Alright, what do you want us to do?"

"Take me to where he's been," Grissom told him. The Doctor stared, "You're serious?"

Grissom nodded. The Doctor looked at Clara who looked back and he then glanced over to John and Sherlock. The Doctor gritted his teeth as he decided, he then nodded. Clara then said, "While you two are bug chasing, I think I'll stay here in UNIT."

John nodded, "I'll stay back too."

Sherlock looked at the Doctor, "I'll come along."

"Right then, Grissom and Benedict follow me, Martin and Clara don't get into any trouble while we're gone," the Doctor said as he went through the doorway, Grissom and Sherlock following behind.


	16. Chapter 16

Grissom walked with the Doctor and Sherlock toward the area where they were the night before. Upon reaching where the Plague Doctor was standing, Grissom knelt down and looked around. He gestured with his hands, "He stopped here, correct?"

"Right," both the Doctor and Sherlock nodded. Grissom narrowed his eyes and pulled out a pair of tweezers and prodded an area of the rubbish bin near him. He pried from the crevices of the wheel a carrion beetle, just like the one he had dissected earlier. However, Grissom studied it and concluded it was dead; a milky substance coated the amber eyes. The Doctor tilted his head, "It could've died days ago."

Grissom raised the beetle carcass toward the sunlight. He replied, "It died at most two weeks ago."

"Impossible," Sherlock shook his head. He was going to say that it would've been impossible for the beetle to been there for two weeks, the Plague Doctor had been in his and John's universe for quite some time, however he was silently advised by the Doctor to not disclose that fact at all, as it would be an unwise decision. The Doctor looked at Grissom and crossed his arm, "Can you tell how it died?"

Grissom nodded and brought out a small scalpel he kept on his person for occasions such as this. He held the tweezers in one hand as he cut the carcass in the other. No amber substance poured out like the one in the lab, but what's more is he couldn't find anything at all, nothing. Grissom concluded, "It starved."

"Not many carrion out in this area for it to feed on, I'd say," the Doctor commented. Sherlock blinked, "What do you think?"

"Protocols," Grissom responded as he collected the carcass as means for his theory. His theory would sound outlandish at best but for the sake of being, any theory's better than none. He still needed more time to smooth the theory out before he even mentions it.

They continued to survey the area, looking for anything dead that the beetles might've taken to. Grissom looked up to spot a nest perched in a cider tree and pointed, "They tell me it has ravens, correct?"

"Yeah, smart bastards, they are," the Doctor nodded. Grissom rubbed his beard. "If the beetle came from it, then the ravens might help too," he told them. Sherlock blinked, "Help?"

"I believe there is some sort of co-operative gambit with the beetles and the ravens. Ravens are extremely intelligent; they follow this thing verbatim. Beetles go where there is food, ravens are opportunistic, mix them together and you'll get," Grissom reached up to the nest and pulled out the remains of a carrion beetle, "A full circle. Beetles invaded the interior of the machine, ravens eat the beetles, and ravens stay with the machine and then some."

"It's brilliant," Sherlock stared. The Doctor nodded. Grissom looked at the halved thorax, "But it doesn't answer all my questions though."

He was looked at and he sighed, "Protocols."

Going by the reports that were given, they headed toward the riverside where it was said that one night a man and his son both witnessed someone near the rafters, there were ravens apparently diving into the waters and bringing up fish. They did not see the person entirely, as it was pitch dark, but it was good enough for them to investigate. Upon arrival to the riverside, they headed toward the rafters. Grissom's heavy boots sunk into the damp sand as he walked toward the decaying corpses of what looked like fish. Flies flew around as he knelt beside one and studied it, the fish had been pecked at by the ravens and he spotted crawling around what remained of the gills something small. With his tweezers, Grissom prodded the corpse until he pried away from the rotted flesh a carrion beetle. He held it up for the Doctor and Sherlock to see, "Found one."

"How many do you need?" the Doctor asked him as he collected the beetle. Grissom sighed in response, "Enough for a theory."

Sherlock's attention was pulled away from them, glancing over to where Big Ben was supposed to be, only to find that in its place a Churchill memorial had been placed instead. The Doctor caught him looking and shook his head and privately told him, "In every universe a variable changes. Sometimes it's small, but in some cases it can be big."

"Why does this London have a Churchill memorial?" Sherlock asked him. He groaned, "Oh, yeah, the Daleks. Oh, don't worry; they're not a problem—at least for now."

"Daleks," Sherlock tilted his head. The Doctor waved his hand, "I wouldn't ask. They're not in your universe. Be thankful they're not; they're a bane of me. Think flying rubbish bins with a nasty attitude."

Grissom continued to study the carcasses of fish, digging around for any living carrion beetle. So far he had only found two and they were small—indicating that they weren't hatched too long ago. He studied them before he tucked them into a specially made container and stood up, patting the sand off his pants. Grissom sighed as he glanced at the beetles as they maneuvered around the container, confused. "A male and a female, it looks," he told them as he rejoined the two's side while holding up the container. "Lovely, do you still need more?" the Doctor asked him. Grissom nodded and stopped before asking Sherlock to hold the container for a minute as he needed to contact UNIT for something. Sherlock held onto the container, looking at the beetles as they moved around. Their amber eyes glistened in the sunlight as they tried to escape the container; they were covered in blackened gunk, likely from the fish carcass. He tilted his head as they settled near the corner of the container and stared, at him.

The Doctor leaned near Sherlock to look at the beetles and shook his head. "Ugly things, they are," he commented. Sherlock nodded, "They do serve a purpose nevertheless."

"Yeah, a purpose," the Doctor coughed. Sherlock glanced at him, "What do you think?"

"Oh, I don't bloody know. There's no way a murder of ravens would follow that thing, beetles or not," the Doctor sighed. Sherlock nodded, "There's something else involved, isn't there?"

"I don't know rightly, Sherlock," the Doctor admitted.

Grissom stepped away from them again, far enough so they wouldn't overhear his conversation. Nick picked up and Grissom told him, "Find me a normal raven, will you?"

"A raven…?" Nick questioned. Grissom sighed, "A normal, non-amber eyed one. I have a theory I want to test."

"Right, one raven coming right up, would you like a writing desk while we're at it, Poe?" Nick joked. Grissom gave a weary sigh in response. "No, just a raven, stick it in a birdcage and have it in my office by the time I get back, understand?"

"Aye, captain," Nick acknowledged and the conversation ended.


	17. Chapter 17

Clara and John were in front of a computer with men typing on its keys. It hit John that at the part where Patrolman Alice had been killed, the radio of his had suddenly gone haywire just before the feed cut out. At first he thought nothing of it but as the day he was having was becoming convoluted, he had an idea. John had the men isolate the audio, and put it through several programs, taking out the track playing and then some. Clara looked over to John, "What do you think?"

"I think there was a reason for the attack," John told her. She blinked, "What are you thinking?"

"I thought the flashlight wasn't the reason. But it dawned on me, when the Doctor and… Benedict encountered him he didn't attack them," John explained. Clara tilted her head, "He could've easily taken them like he done to Alice. So, why didn't he do it then?"

"Exactly, I was thinking that perhaps there was more to it than we thought. That some reason the thing chose to attack Alice and no one else," John fathomed. The men pulled their attention to the screen as they finished tidying up the audio. The man, Greg, on the right hit the playback button as Jory on the left turned up the volume:

"_You… did… this… We… trusted… you._"

John blinked. He glanced to Clara who merely stared at the screen. Greg typed on the keys and hit the playback button again:

"You did this. We trusted you."

"There's more to it," Jory commented. Greg nodded. Clara ran a hand through her brunette hair and looked at John, "It was _talking_."

"The ravens could talk too. That's how I found that evidence," John remembered. Clara held a hand under her chin, pondering. "What does this all mean?"

The men finished up and readied to play the final version:

"You did this to us, Alice. We trusted you. Why?"

"He knew him," John was stunned. Clara looked at the men, "Is there anyone we can talk to about Patrolman Alice?"

"Just Moya and Bradley," they answered. John rubbed his chin, "What does he mean, "You did this"?"

John and Clara left the room and tracked down Moya who was signing off on a supply run. She turned to them, "Patrolman Alice knew it?"

"Yeah, Greg and Jory isolated the audio. Do you have a record on Alice?" Clara asked her. She chewed on her lips, "I can't give out that sort of information."

"A man is dead. He knew his killer. We need to know how he knew him," John pointed. Clara nodded, "We need to know this. There are reasons to believe Alice was involved."

Moya sighed, "Bradley is the only one who has access to it."

"Then we'll get him," John turned and marched away. Clara hurried to keep up with him. They stopped when they spotted a scientist, Nick, holding a birdcage with a raven inside. The raven didn't have amber eyes like the others they've seen and it confused them. Clara stepped toward Nick and asked him, "What are you doing with a raven?"

"I'm sorry, um, protocols," Nick shook his head. John pointed, "It doesn't have amber eyes."

"Look, Grissom just wants to test a few theories is all," Nick hurried away with the raven cawing in the distant. Clara looked at John, "What theories?"

"Considering what our jobs' been like, anything," John sighed. They continued to wander until they found Bradley looking down on paperwork he was singing. He stopped when he looked up to them. John had his arms crossed. Clara was merely looking. "We need files on Patrolman Alice," John told him. Bradley stared, "Why do you want files for?"

"We have reasons to believe he knew the machine," Clara told him. Bradley tilted his head, confused. "What do you mean he knew it?" he asked. John told him what the men found in the segmented audio clip; he then stopped and shook his head, in disbelief. "Please, we have to know," Clara pleaded. Bradley looked down at his desk long and hard, rubbing his hazel eyes and running a hand through his graying hair before he glance dup and nodded. He gave them access to a restricted part of UNIT where files on all its employees resided. With an escort they were led to an elevator and the escort used his ID on the scanner to allow the elevator to go down further of UNIT.

On arrival, John and Clara were escorted to a large room with cabinets lining up, all in alphabetical order according to surnames. They were lead toward one cabinet where the escort opened and rummaged through until he dug out a file on Alice. He continued to lead John and Clara into a room and stood guard as they looked through the folder.

Patrolman Alice Walker, would've been sixity years years old next month had he lived, lived alone in a small flat in Essex. He had no known relatives or next of kin; he was an average man from the look of things. So far as it looked, there wasn't anything in his file that would indicate that Alice was involved in something. John ran a hand through his graying hair and sighed, "I don't get it. What are we missing here?"

"I don't know," Clara shook her head. She got to a paper with cross references of Alice's former employees and stopped. "Wait a minute, Lamb?"

John looked at her, "Lamb?"

"Sofia Lamb!" Clara pointed. John eyed her, "I don't even know who that is!"

"She's a scientist," Clara explained. John tilted his head, "She in my universe?"

"Oh, no, she never existed in it," Clara shook her head. John nodded. Clara continued, "She's a scientist who was working on a project."

"What happened?" John asked. Clara shrugged, "She just disappeared, and so did everyone she was working with."

"Except Alice," John glanced down. Clara nodded. John rubbed his eyes, "What was his occupation?"

"Um, it just says he was a guard," Clara flipped through the pages. John crossed his arms. He tilted his head, "I think this Sofia Lamb was working on more than just a project."

Clara sighed, "Maybe we can look her up?"

"That's the plan," John gathered to papers and stacked them back into the folder. He handed it back to the escort who checked to ensure everything was inside and when he concluded everything was accounted for he returned the folder to its respective cabinet. The escort led them to the elevator and took them back to the ground floor where they headed back to Greg and Jory. "Sofia Lamb—Alice worked for her?" Greg rubbed his chin. Jory shook his head, "Never told us that part at all."

"We think she's been doing more than a science project, you think you can dig up things about her?" John asked them. They proceeded to point at themselves. "There was a reason we were hired," they proclaimed. Clara nodded, "Do you think you can get anything that involves her project?"

"We can try, no promises," she heard the two said as they turned around to the computer and began to type vehemently on the keys. "Sofia Lamb," the two muttered under their breaths. Pictures of a woman in her mid-thirties popped up, she wore a white lab coat in almost all of them and a picture of her and ten others in lab coats appeared. Greg and Jory stopped when they found audio recordings from tapes. They disregarded them until they kept popping up relentlessly and then some. "I don't get it, why are audio recordings popping up?" Jory tapped on the keys. Greg shook his head, "Must be because of the relevancy filter. It's okay I can get rid of them with another filter."

John held up his hand. "Hold on, now, why don't you play the first one?" he asked. He was looked at. Jory shrugged, "Why not?"

Greg sighed, "I don't know. I think it's pointless."

"There had to be reasons for why the audio recordings are coming up, no?" Clara looked at them both. Greg sighed and tapped on the keys, when he finished Jory turned the volume up. The narrator was none other than late Patrolman Alice:

"This is Warden Walker and I would like to remind the Keepers on the behalf of the wonderful scientists of tomorrow to not allow the Alpha Series to wander the halls during the after-hours. We had multiple complaints coming in about the Alpha Series getting into trouble. In particular, to the Keeper of… uh… [_Papers are being shuffled_] Subject Delta; please keep your Subject in its enclosure. The scientists are complaining that Subject Delta has been altering some audio equipment and playing… [_More papers being shuffled_]… I don't know, some song called "The London Crow" and would like you to keep it away from the equipment from now on. And on another subject… subject… heh… uh but um, Keepers, please keep the Alpha Series out of the way on January 12th. There had been an odd infestation and there will be workers coming in and spraying so please keep the Alpha Series out of the way. That'll be it for today's laundry list and I'll be sure to come up with more in the next coming days. This has been Warden Walker, and good bye."

"There's an earlier audio recording," Jory looked at John. John looked at Clara and she nodded. John nodded, too. "Play it," he told Jory. The next narrator who came on wasn't Alice this, it was someone else:

"Okay people, its Warden Ryan and I won't keep you for long. Today's going to be a long and interesting day indeed. Tomorrow's going to be Halloween and the Big Wigs want more subjects than before. So for everyone's sake, we need all hands on deck. And no Taggart that doesn't mean you can skip out because you have a dentist appointment. You're having _one_ tooth removed, not the whole damn set, so don't even _try_ to do it. Anyway, the Big Wigs wants the Keepers on call for when the subjects arrive tomorrow. And for my sake and everyone else's please do not leave crumbs in the break room, the beetles are coming back again and _He Who Shan't Be Named_ doesn't like paying for exterminators so please clean up after yourself. This has been Warden Ryan and would you kindly do as I asked?"


	18. Chapter 18

After walking endlessly around London until around the time it was almost sunset, Grissom counted the beetles he had collected. Each of the beetles was a different size, the smaller ones were younger and the bigger ones were older. Grissom had nine total from his and the Doctor and Sherlock's trek. "Nine total," he told them. They nod. Grissom sighed, "This will have to do."

"I'm plenty curious about this theory of yours, Grissom," the Doctor looked at him. Sherlock nodded, "Indeed, what are you thinking?"

"Protocols," Grissom told them as he held the container under his arm.

They headed back to UNIT. Upon arrival, Grissom was immediately told in a hush-hush voice that something was waiting for him in his office. Grissom nodded and left for his office, leaving the Doctor and Sherlock to be taken by the guard toward where John and Clara were.

Grissom arrived to his office to see a birdcage sitting on the table against the wall. The raven silently pecked at the food provided for it as Grissom walked toward it. He studied it, indeed it didn't have amber eyes, and it was normal. Grissom sat the container of beetles down on his desk as he continued to look at the raven. He questioned why would the ravens be interested in the Plague Doctor, indeed the beetles would have them following him, but then it dawned on him that normally ravens wouldn't fly around in the pitch dark night. Grissom chewed on his lips as he pondered.

His attention turned to the beetles. "I'm a raven. I see a beetle. I'm hungry; I'm not a picky eater so I go after it. I eat the beetle, then what?" Grissom rubbed his beard. It stumped him for some time until Nick came with the test results and handed them to him. Grissom read the results as he sat at his desk, the amber substance was something UNIT never saw before, and in fact the lab technicians were unable to compensate for that fact when they were running tests. However, it wasn't all that they wrote about. In the amber substance was faint traces of blood, but DNA tests haven't been conclusive either. Results from the incisor were nil and the flesh pulled from the beetle was indeed human, results again nil. The flesh itself came from inside the mouth, specifically from the cheek.

Grissom had a hand under his chin as he continued to read. The flesh wasn't fresh nor was it rotting, in fact, it was preserved. But it wasn't preserved with the usual suspects, it was preserved by something else and once more the technicians couldn't identify what it was. Grissom shook his head, "Preserved flesh found in a beetle what does it mean?

He glanced over to the raven that quietly sat on the swing. His theory formulated and while he still looked at the raven, he moved his hand to the container and pushed open a slider that exposes minute holes that allowed air to pass through the container. Almost immediately the raven turned its head toward the container and begun to react violently. Its talons smacked against the birdcage, rattling them as the raven tried to push its head through the side. Grissom turned his head to the beetles and said, "The raven eats the beetle and the raven becomes… a part of me."

Grissom closed the slider and the raven quieted down. As he stared at the beetles, Grissom said, "They are me and I am they, for we are Legion."

Nick came into his office and sees Grissom staring at the beetles. Grissom broke from his stare and turned to Nick, "What is it?"

"I heard a noise, is everything okay?" Nick asked him. Grissom nodded, "I figured it out."

"You did?" Nick walked to his desk. Grissom pointed behind to the raven, "The beetles are attracting ravens with their pheromone."

"You're saying the beetles want to be eaten?" Nick blinked. Grissom nodded. Nick asked, "Why would they want to be eaten?"

"You should be asking me, why the beetles would only attract ravens," Grissom told him. Nick nodded and cleared his throat. "Why the beetles would only attract ravens?" he asked instead. Grissom raised a finger, "I don't know. I only found remnants of beetles in raven nests. The pheromones don't affect us—humans—or else we'd hear something about it. No dogs or cats ate the beetles so there's that."

"But then, wouldn't the beetles attract other species of birds related to the raven?" Nick asked him. Grissom sighed then looked up to Nick. "Doesn't Joey have a pet bluebird?"

"Yeah, Cree, he keeps him in his office," Nick remembered. Grissom pointed at him, "Get Cree in here. I want to test another theory."

"I don't think Joey would let me borrow Cree," Nick shook his head. Grissom rolled his eyes, "It's a matter of life and death. You can tell him I made you, now hurry up."

Nick hurried out of the office and Grissom rubbed his eyes. He looked at the beetles, "What are you planning?"

In a few minutes Nick returned with Cree's birdcage, behind him was Joey with a befuddled look. "Explain to me why Nick bird-napped my Cree?" Joey asked Grissom. Grissom looked at him, "The beetles' pheromones are only attracting ravens. I had a theory that if true, why haven't we seen any other birds with amber eyes?"

"Okay, I'll bite, what do you think?" Joey tilted his head as Nick rested the birdcage gently on Grissom's desk. Grissom sighed, "Wouldn't the beetles affect other species of birds that belong to _Corvus_?"

"In theory, they should," Joey blinked. Grissom carefully pushed on the slider, exposing the minute holes again. Once more the raven became increasingly agitated and begun to attack the birdcage. The bluebird didn't respond at all; abet only responding to the raven's reactions. When Grissom shut the slider closed, the raven calmed down again and became docile. Joey and Nick were in awe and Grissom looked at the bluebird.

"I don't understand, Cree should've been off its rocker too," Nick professed. Joey nodded. Grissom rubbed his beard, "I think the pheromones are only capable of attracting ravens."

"But, how would that be possible?" Nick asked. Joey shrugged, "Unless the beetles can change their pheromones."

Grissom pointed at Joey, "That's the idea."

"But, Grissom, that could only happen if someone specifically engineered the beetles," Nick looked at him. Joey looked at Nick, "Are you crazy? Like a big hulking thing can produce engineered beetles specifically to be eaten by ravens."

"Even then, why would anyone engineer beetles at all?" Nick questioned. Joey sighed, "And what would be the reason?"

"Because, I think our dear friend is hiding something more under that mask of his," Grissom sat back in his seat as he looked at the beetles.


	19. Chapter 19

The Doctor and Sherlock met with John and Clara as they were sitting around a table, overlooking papers scattered. "Found anything?" the Doctor asked them. John looked up, "Sofia Lamb—she ring any bell?"

"Sofia Lamb?" Sherlock looked at the Doctor. The Doctor gritted his teeth, thoughts came and went. Sofia Lamb wasn't someone he knew personally, good or bad, but he had heard of her through some conversations he had with people he met on his adventures. Sofia Lamb was a big-shot scientist that was compelled by one notion and only that notion: destroying the Cybermen. She had tried the conventional tactics, creating new weaponry, but the Cybermens' rapid upgrade cycle had made them redundant within a year. At one point, the Doctor recalled, the Cybermen were once highly allergic to gold, to the point of death if exposed to enough and it was a weapon that too was short lived when the Cybermen completed their umpteenth upgrade cycle.

Sofia Lamb had been trying hard to come up ways but all fell short once the Cybermen gotten wise. However, she mysterious disappeared one year after announcing she had started a new project that was sure to destroy the Cybermen once and for all, taking with her several teams of scientists. Since, no one has heard from her and no one had been lucky enough to find any of the scientists who had gone with her.

The Doctor shook his head, "Only what I heard."

"Well apparently she had been doing more than just good work," John showed him a page that was transcribed from a recording found. It was Sofia Lamb and it appeared she recorded the message two years after her disappearance.

* * *

"The Cybermen are able to eliminate opponents because they are not held back by human nature. They don't hold to the social norms we humans are bound to. They strive to better themselves and it matters not how far they go to do it, neither complain at all and what would be the point? The Cybermen take those weak and make them stronger. Those made stronger become one of them and the transformation is as though they were never human to begin with. As such, I believe I could transcribe their ideology into something we may be able to use. It won't be much, but I believe with some work we can make with what we have. Unfortunately I have to test some theories before we can even begin to fathom. I believe that if we put aside human notions, the desires that bind us to society, the ideas of humanity, we may be finally able to destroy the Cybermen once and for all."

* * *

"Sofia Lamb, is she someone I'm supposed to know?" Sherlock asked. John replied, "She was never in our universe."

"Doctor, we think Sofia Lamb's connected," Clara told the Doctor. The Doctor studied the paper and slowly nodded, "What else you found?"

"We haven't found an obituary or a death certificate so we think she's still alive," John told him. Clara nodded. She added, "She would be sixty now."

"So, Sofia Lamb, where does she fit in?" the Doctor pondered. Sherlock looked at the papers he picked up. Sofia Lamb was a brilliant student who had been kicked out of Oxford for reasons that were never stated and had gone into work for various companies. She would continue this trend until she had gotten money from illegal means, laundering seemed to be her usual fare but she had been known to blackmail. So far everything about this woman set off alarms in Sherlock's head, she was a mad woman who dreamed a little too much and was an extremist by trade. John looked at Sherlock, "She fits into this."

"Do you think you can find her, Doctor?" Sherlock asked. The Doctor pondered, the TARDIS would always take him where he needed to be and if Sofia Lamb is a threat as everyone is thinking, then it might take him to her or where she was last. He nodded, "I might be able to. However, first things first, how does any of this fit together?"

"Ask and ye shall receive, Doctor," he heard a voice behind him. He turned to see Grissom standing there. Grissom bowed his head lightly. "I believe the answers lie in places we haven't thought of, Doctor," he told him. "What have you found?" the Doctor asked him. Grissom smiled, "I'll show you."

He led them back to his office where he showed them the raven and Cree the bluebird. The Doctor tilted his head as he looked at the raven, it didn't have the amber eyes like the others did and he was miffed at the sight of Cree. John simply crossed his arms. Clara blinked. Sherlock merely stared. Grissom explained, "The beetles are producing a specific pheromone that can only attract ravens."

"Impossible," the Doctor shook his head. "Improbable," Sherlock mustered. John blinked. Clara tilted her head. Grissom nodded. "Watch," he instructed. He pushed on the slider, exposing the minute holes. Immediately, the raven began thrashing in its birdcage, attempting to bite the bars as it clasped them, squawking loudly. Cree did nothing and remained calm, only becoming flustered when the raven began to bash against the bars. Grissom quickly closed the minute holes and nodded. The Doctor looked at him, "So that was what you were doing."

"But, they're in the same genius, how could the bluebird not be affected?" John questioned. Sherlock tilted his head, "The beetles produce the pheromone, why?"

"I would think beetles would produce pheromones in order to not be attacked," Clara blinked. Grissom rubbed his weary eyes. "The beetles were altered, only producing a specific set of pheromones that trigger a response in ravens," he said. He watched the collective responses before explaining further. "The beetles were eating flesh; only the flesh they were eating was neither fresh nor rotted. It was preserved. However, it wasn't preserved with your standard embalming or its equivalent. The beetles were consuming their weight with the flesh and something in it caused them to change. They change, become different than normal carrion beetles, and in doing so they develop a sort of parasitic bond with ravens."

"You mean, the beetles are using the pheromones to get ravens to eat them?" John rubbed his brow. Sherlock shook his head, "Unheard of. However, I never seen parasitic behavior of this nature with beetles."

"Beetles attract ravens, the ravens eat the beetles, then what?" the Doctor questioned. Clara looked at the raven and answered, "The raven becomes affected too."

"Correct, my dear, the raven consumes how many beetles needed until it gains its infamous eyes and traits," Grissom nodded. John raised a hand, "Why all this to be eaten by a raven? What purpose does this entire ordeal serve?"

"He controls them, not by conventional means," Grissom explained. The Doctor winced, "You cannot be serious."

"I am serious, Doctor, he _is_ controlling them," Grissom nodded. Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and tried to comprehend what was happening. This was all very new to him and he never would imagine this to happen to him and John of all things. The sheer thought that a machine controlling beetles was enough for his stomach to become knotted, a very rare event. John still clung to the hope this was all a dream and that he would be awakened by Mary and told that Sherlock needed him somewhere per usual. Instead, he was faced with the fact that it was never a dream to begin with.

"What's interesting is the amber substance that was found in the first beetle. The labs haven't been able to identify it but it has faint minute traces of blood. Again, the labs can't identify the blood either. And in the beetle I also found what remains of an incisor, while it can't be used to identify, I was able to run some tests on it. Whoever the beetles have been eating from is roughly forty-one years old. The gender and the like pinpoints it is a male," Grissom told them.

Sherlock glanced at the Doctor as the Doctor did the same. "The beetle came out of the…" the Doctor trailed. Sherlock nodded, "It did."

"You can't mean that, Dr. Grissom," John shook his head. Clara chewed on her lips, "I think he does… Martin."

"You said the first beetle came from the machine, didn't you?" Grissom pointed. The Doctor and Sherlock nodded. Grissom cringed, "Then you found your culprit. This thing isn't as machine and wires as everyone thinks it."

"My god," Clara covered her mouth, revolted. Sherlock cringed as well as John. The Doctor stared, "Are you telling me a person is inside that thing?"

"Not in it," Grissom shook his head. "He _is_ that person. What remains of him, anyway."

"You're saying he's dead, right?" John gestured. Grissom shirked, "That I don't know. However, there are colonies of these beetles living inside him. They consume their weight in flesh and I believe they exit through the slits on his mask. Hence, why the first beetle flew out of the nostril and landed at your feet, Benedict."

"Why would carrion beetles be inside him in the first place?" Clara sheepishly asked. Grissom chewed on his lips, "Perhaps it was an accident. One got in through the slits and ended up somewhere in the chest cavity. Beetle consumes its weight in flesh, mutates, starts producing eggs, eggs hatch and so forth."

"You know, Clara, Walker did say there was an odd infestation in that audio log," John looked at Clara. Clara remembered and nodded. "What audio log?" they were looked at. "We were looking up things while you guys were out. We found these weird audio logs; some of them were corrupted beyond repair. Most of them were narrated by Alice Walker. And there was a page from a handbook totally in gibberish," Clara explained. The Doctor looked at her, "Walker?"

"Yes, the Patrolman was one of the guards for something called the Corporation. He apparently gotten a nifty promotion for his contributions," Clara said with disdain. The Doctor blinked, "What does it have to do with our friend?"

"You won't believe this, but when Walker was attacked, his radio that he was listening to music with had suddenly become erratic just before he was killed. Martin thought of something and had the Geeks work on the audio. It was talking, it was _actually_ talking! It _knew_ him, Doctor, that's why Walker was killed," Clara explained to him.

"That would explain why we weren't attacked," Sherlock looked at the Doctor who merely stared blankly. John nodded, "It'd account for the behavior too. This thing was stalking Alice, I'm guessing it did the way he had done to whoever it was."

"What about Sofia?" the Doctor looked.

John nodded, "Sofia Lamb came up in a lot of them. Sometimes referenced, sometimes even narrating some of those logs."

"Sofia Lamb," the Doctor looked down at his feet. He chewed on his lips, ran a hand through his graying hair before looking at them, "What else you found?"

"Sofia Lamb was part of the Corporation, too," John told him. Clara nodded. She said, "We couldn't find any details about it, it's all been redacted and deleted, the Geeks couldn't find anything."

"So Sofia Lamb was responsible for that thing?" Sherlock summed. The Doctor winced. John and Clara nodded in response. The Doctor looked at Grissom, "Have Moya and Bradley been notified?"

"Aye, they have," Grissom nodded. The Doctor looked at Sherlock and the other two, "We have been looking in the wrong places this whole time."

"Doctor, what do we do?" Clara looked at him worryingly. He cringed as he himself didn't have an exact answer. He however had a thought, if the thing could speak, abet differently as far as speaking goes, that with some ingenious design, he could have a proper conversation with tall, dark, and slender himself.


	20. Chapter 20

The Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver was able to collect faint traces of a coding, Greg and Jory ran it through UNIT's programming, and they found that it was sort of like a driver that is commonly found in computers alike. It allowed the Plague Doctor to speak in a way that many wouldn't be able to understand sans the affected ravens, but audio equipment would easily pick it up as interference. With some alternation, the code was rewrote so it would translate whatever the Plague Doctor said and the Doctor had them download the translator to an ear piece that he could easily wear.

The Doctor had decided to try something that he knew would be risky. He was going to talk things over with the Plague Doctor, understand his plight and hopefully find out details about Sofia Lamb and the Corporation. Sherlock and the others would join him, as added support in case things don't go the way that it should. The Doctor silently hoped as he stuck the earpiece in his right ear that he could at least get some conversation out of the Plague Doctor.

"Um, Doctor, I have a question," John raised his hand. The Doctor looked at him. John cleared his throat, "After all this, what's going to happen to us?"

"Indeed, what will happen to us?" Sherlock questioned. The Doctor sighed. "I'll return you to your proper universe a day after I took you," he said.

"Will we remember this?" John asked him. The Doctor didn't respond. Sherlock tilted his head, "Will we?"

Again, the Doctor didn't respond. Clara gave them a generic answer that they accepted as they readied for what would be considered the final confrontation. In truth, both she and the Doctor know what will happen when Sherlock and John return to their universe. It was a sad truth that had its benefits, but the duo will slowly but surely forget they were ever in the TARDIS the moment they are returned. It wouldn't be instant, but by the second hour, the duo wouldn't even recognize them. It was a time-y whime-y thing, the Doctor would say. As long as they were in the TARDIS, they'd remember whatever happened during their time inside, but it also meant if they were outside the TARDIS for too long, they'd forget. Clara and past companions managed to keep their memories due to circumstances, but for Sherlock and John, given that their universe never even heard of the Daleks, it was ideally that they'd forget what they experienced.

The Doctor did want to tell them, but he knew from experience that if he told anyone they'd forget that they even met him, they'd try everything in their power to prevent that from happening. It was better for all of them to keep blissfully ignorant.

Meanwhile, in the Oval Room, Bradley and Moya received a transmission from the higher ups after the revelation. They were to exterminate the Plague Doctor, one way or another. The higher ups deemed him a threat. When asked about imprisoning the Plague Doctor instead, the higher ups replied that imprisoning something like the Plague Doctor would be impossible, not because of his height but solely because of his ravens which now apparently are part of him and meant even touching one would incite his wrath. Bradley asked if they were to include the Doctor on the matter, but the higher ups denied, proclaiming that the Doctor would've hampered with the mission. With that, transmission ended and both Bradley and Moya had to decide how they would exterminate the Plague Doctor without the Doctor or his companions knowing what they were doing.

They both decided that despite what the Plague Doctor had done, he had the justification of killing Walker, and he had never laid a hand on anyone else but Walker. He was to have a swift and painless death, the Plague Doctor; he would be allowed to speak with the Doctor as a courtesy, so UNIT will learn more about the Corporation and what Sofia Lamb had been doing. When the Plague Doctor is done, UNIT will converge and give him a swift death.

Bradley and Moya knew their ramifications for going behind the Doctor's back, but they were under orders from the higher ups and even the Doctor knew better. He knew they had to follow orders to the letter and they couldn't have a say in the matter or do anything. The plan would be for UNIT soldiers to guard the Doctor and his companions as he and they track down and speak with the Plague Doctor. When everything is discussed, they are to open fire with modified rounds that would cause fatal electric shocks upon impact, the soldiers had to keep on target and make sure that the Plague Doctor goes down dead. They had to be swift as the Plague Doctor would respond quickly. Once the Plague Doctor was decreed dead, his body or what remains would be further destroyed by incineration. Then the following morning UNIT will collect the ravens with amber eyes and have them destroyed as well. "He knew the risks," Bradley reminded Moya. Moya nodded and then asked, "Did it have to come to this?"


	21. Chapter 21

The Doctor and his companions walked through the darkened areas of London. These were areas that many not paid much attention to. It was because of this that these areas of London had looked like remnants of the past. It was the perfect spot for the Plague Doctor to hide in to avoid the lighted Downtown London. Clara looked around the top of the buildings; she expected the ravens to be somewhere. So far they hadn't encountered any ravens and that became worrisome, as it either meant the Plague Doctor was not present in that area or universe, or that he was aware of their presence or pulled back the ravens. Sherlock kept looking at the entrances of the alleys, expecting the Plague Doctor to be in one of them, but he hadn't seen him. John looked behind; he only prayed that the Plague Doctor wasn't behind them. He expected the Plague Doctor to be there the moment he looked behind; it was something that John always considered when it came to something like this. The Doctor kept looking forward, his earpiece was on and he was quietly listening, he hoped he could pick up on the Plague Doctor before he could pick on them.

John uneasily tapped on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock glanced at him. John sighed, "Why are we doing this?"

"Do we have any choice?" Sherlock shrugged. John shook his head. "Sherlock, this is beyond anything we have ever done, this makes the Morarity cases look sane," he said. Sherlock sighed. "I know John; this entire case has been one huge ride. A pity no case will ever top this," Sherlock rubbed his brow. John balked. "Sherlock, this entire case is convoluted, absolutely convoluted. It has everything in a bloody science fiction novel. We have an alien time traveler, a human assistant, a military organization, and Revenant," John summed. Sherlock stared, "Revenant?"

"Yeah, that's his name—will be his name once I can go home and type it up," John explained. Sherlock stared, "You're writing about this?"

"I was going to keep it a secret but I suppose there's no point, you'd find out about it one way or another," John shrugged. Sherlock crossed his arms. "What if I didn't?" he questioned. John cackled, as if Sherlock had made a joke. "The day you don't find out about something is the day the world ends," John pointed. Sherlock rubbed his chin, pondering. "I'd be careful, if the Doctor is real, who's to say the world wouldn't?" he wondered. John shirked. "I'm retracting that," John was quick to say. Sherlock chuckled.

It felt like hours since they embarked on the hunt for the Plague Doctor. The Doctor continuously stopped and tilted his head, hoping to hear something on the earpiece. Clara looked at the Doctor, "What are we going to do after we talk to him, Doctor?"

The Doctor turned his head to her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are we going to let him on his way or what?" Clara gestured. The Doctor sighed, "I don't know. Depends on how he responds I suppose."

"You're not going to kill him are you?" Clara worried. The Doctor shook his head, "I won't kill him unless he tries to kill us. Which is unlikely, I think he might be in a talkative mood."

"How would you know?" John asked him. The Doctor shrugged, "He hadn't come after us had he?"

"Doesn't mean that he'd be up for a quick chat about what the hell is going on," John responded. Sherlock sighed, "Couldn't hurt to the try nevertheless."

"Besides, the Doctor is right, he hasn't come after us," Clara agreed. The Doctor nodded, "We'll be fine. I'm sure of."

"Well, I suppose so, at least UNIT is keeping an eye on things," John rubbed his forehead.

They combed the area, but nothing they found indicated that the Plague Doctor was in the vicinity. There were no ravens and it didn't look like they were around either. If the ravens were hidden, they were good at it; neither the Doctor nor the others could spot a raven. It became concerning, John was sure the Plague Doctor gone back to Sherwood, but the Doctor assured him that the Plague Doctor was still in London, somewhere.

Clara checked the time to see it was nearly three. The Doctor gritted his teeth, "Where is he?"

"Maybe he did go back to Sherwood?" Sherlock rubbed his eyes. The Doctor shook his head, "Would've set off an alarm at UNIT. I don't understand."

"What if he's in hiding?" John asked. The Doctor sighed, "I don't know. I can bloody believe it; I'm already missing the ravens."

"If he's somewhere, then where could've he gone?" Clara pondered. Sherlock raised a finger, "What if he is at the shoreline? Grissom found beetles there, yeah?"

"Maybe," the Doctor rubbed his chin. Clara cleared her throat, "It couldn't hurt to try."

"Why would he be at the shoreline?" John asked them. "Grissom found beetles in the carcasses of fish," Sherlock explained. The Doctor nodded, "And maybe he gone to feed the ravens."

The Doctor and his companions traversed through the back alleys, through the dimmer areas of London, until they spotted the shoreline of the canal from a distance. They all narrowed their eyes as they scanned the area, they didn't hear the ravens, nor did they see a shape. As they neared, they began to see black specks soaring through the skies, some dove into the water. The black specks rose from the water and flew over the sand, as they passed over the sand, sounds of thudding emitted. "That explains the carcasses," Sherlock whispered to the Doctor. The Doctor nodded. "Who knew the ravens get hungry," John commented. Clara looked up and quickly gestured for everyone to kneel down close to the ground. Overhead, ravens flew over them, disappearing in the distance. When the ravens were gone, the Doctor and his companions stood up and cautiously neared the shoreline. Faintly in the distant there was a dark shape near the waters, standing quietly as black specks flew around it. The Doctor touched the earpiece slightly, affirming that it was still working, and ordered the others to remain as he did the unthinkable. The Doctor approached at a slow pace toward the Plague Doctor, keeping his head held up and his arms at his side as he walked. The ravens instantly took notice of his appearance and begun to caw at him.

Several glared at him as he calmly passed them, neither attempted to peck at him nor tried to gouge his eyes out. The ravens closest to the Plague Doctor begun to stare at the Doctor, but the Plague Doctor merely stared at the water, seemingly oblivious to the Doctor's presence. The Doctor carefully walked over the half-eaten fish that somewhat moved, already festered with beetles. As he touched the earpiece, the Doctor heard only static, it either meant the earpiece wasn't working or something was wrong.

He nearly jumped when the Plague Doctor turned around to face him; he held a raven on his hand, petting it lovingly. The raven in the Plague Doctor's hand cawed at the Doctor, but it quieted when the Plague Doctor touched it's head and it flew off to join the others perching on the lampposts. The Plague Doctor merely stared at the Doctor, not moving an inch; it looked as if he was waiting for the Doctor to do something. The Doctor cleared his throat and begun to speak with the Plague Doctor.

"Who are you?" asked the Doctor as he stared at the Plague Doctor. The Plague Doctor merely stared at him. When he spoke, his voice was hollow, gritty, and downright metallic. "Who are we, really? We lie to ourselves and to others alike, neither us so close to our former," the Plague Doctor simply replied. The Doctor stopped, "I never lied."

"We all lie, even you," the Plague Doctor pointed out. The Doctor crossed his arms, "Suppose I do, but I never lie without reason."

"An honest response—an anomaly in my time," the Plague Doctor watched him uncross his arms. He saw three others standing in the distant, two he was familiar with from what he picked up from the homeless in Sherwood and the assistant. The Plague Doctor returned his attention to the Doctor as he cleared his throat. "So, what is your name?" the Doctor asked him. The Plague Doctor gave a heavy sigh, metallic thumping came from inside the mask. "They gave me many names neither the same nor exact, always at random always at a whim. Never have I been asked myself. Proclaim your own," the Plague Doctor sighs.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "I am the Doctor," he introduced himself. The Plague Doctor gave a slight nod. "You had him throw down that stunner," the Plague Doctor mentioned wearily as he glimpsed to Sherlock who merely stared back. The Doctor shirked in his spot. "Right, I'm sorry about that, we were afraid of what you might've done," the Doctor apologized. The Plague Doctor scoffed, it sounded as if something smacked against a metal wall. "I am not a murderer, Doctor," he vehemently responded. The Doctor nodded. "Right, I'm sorry, it's just that it's been a very long day, indeed," he coughed.

"Are you here to kill me too, Doctor?" the Plague Doctor asked him. The Doctor shook his head, "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to talk to you."

"No one wants to hear from a condemned man, Doctor. Time has told me this," the Plague Doctor lamented. The Doctor crossed his arms and tilted his head. "What if someone wants to hear?" he asked him. The Plague Doctor chuckled, his chuckle metallic and grinding. "Then they have too much time on their hands," he replied. The Doctor cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. He then said to the Plague Doctor, "We knew you killed a Patrolman."

"Found out about Walker, have you?" the Plague Doctor tilted his head left. The Doctor uncrossed his arms. He nodded, "Yes, we knew he kidnapped you."

"He kidnapped others before me, but they… did not…" the Plague Doctor trailed, turning his head away from the Doctor. The Doctor saw his silver eyes, although they didn't move they seemed to gleam with emotions. "He had taken us and was rewarded for the deeds, we were not so fortunate," he heard the Plague Doctor say. The Doctor stared. He responded, "Bring justice to them then, tell me about the Corporation."

The Plague Doctor turned his head back to the Doctor. The Doctor scorned, "What is it? Why is it doing this to people?"

"The Evil desired us—for it used us to become weapons of war. It matters not what became of us. As long as we existed, they had no reason to fathom," the Plague Doctor replied. "It is great evil which corrupts all who enter it, even the noble of men are not safe from it."

"Where is it, tell me, please," the Doctor pleaded. The Plague Doctor sighed and it looked he was thinking. He nodded and replied, "It is where life goes when it die. In depths that no one will ever find them. Where the light cannot be seen and darkness reigns supreme. Darkness will not allow the light to be brought to it."

The Doctor tried to understand what he was told. He chewed on his lip as he tried to figure out the cryptic response he mustered thoughts and they weren't of any help. He then decided to ask about Sofia Lamb—if she was where the Corporation was then it would help him find it easier.

"Do you know where Sofia Lamb is?"

"The She-Devil is in those depths, with the Evil."

"Was she involved with what happened to you?"

"Yes. She made us all like this. It mattered not who we were."

The Doctor gritted his teeth. "Why did she do all this?" he questioned. The Plague Doctor turned his head. "She wanted to create soldiers who would rival the Cybermen. No matter our visage, our faces, our former lives, we would've served as her army," the Doctor heard him say. The Doctor rubbed his chin, "She's no different than the Cybermen!"

"The Cybermen delete, she did nothing of the sort," the Plague Doctor corrected him. The Doctor stopped. "You remember life before this?" the Doctor asked. The Plague Doctor turned away from him.

The others wearily joined the Doctor's side as he continued to stare at the Plague Doctor. The Plague Doctor turned back to see them standing behind the Doctor. One of them, Sherlock, began to ask him his own questions. "Why were you in our universe?" Sherlock asked the Plague Doctor. The Plague Doctor seemingly looked into his eyes and replied. "I was lost," he said. Sherlock tilted his head, "Lost?"

"I was looking for a way home," the Plague Doctor elaborated. Sherlock nodded, "Where do you come from?"

"Neither this universe nor yours," the Plague Doctor only responded. Sherlock stopped. "You're not from either?" he asked. The Plague Doctor gave a slight nod. Clara cleared her throat. The Plague Doctor turned his head to her. Clara asked him, "Do you know what universe you're from?"

"No," she heard him say. "How do you even move between universes in the first place?" Sherlock questioned. The Plague Doctor turned to him. "We were outfitted with… technology that allows us passage between worlds. It matters not," he told him. Sherlock tilted his head, "How many of you exist?"

The Plague Doctor turned his head. "I am… the only one left," he replied. Clara stared, "You are the last?"

"We reviled the She-Devil, the Evil; we refused to become weapons of war. We fought them, but all but I were eliminated. I escaped," the Plague Doctor shook his head. "How many people did they take?" Sherlock questioned. The Plague Doctor gave a heavy sigh, "Too many to count. That is why they claimed us from our worlds. Too many in one draws unwanted attention."

"They take people from other universes," the Doctor stood there appalled. The Plague Doctor gave a slight nod in response. The Doctor ran a hand through his hair as he tried to understand what was spoken. "We were selected," the Plague Doctor sighed. "We were followed and when it was time, we could not stop it."

"How did they take people from the other universes?" the Doctor asked. The Plague Doctor shook his head lightly. "I do not know. They have agents in all universes that claim subjects for use," the Plague Doctor replied. The Doctor nodded, "Are there any other agents in this universe?"

"I do not know, identities are easy to forge," he heard the Plague Doctor sigh. "They do not even return to their own universes most of the time. Too many risks involved."

"Was Walker from your universe?" the Doctor asked. The Plague Doctor gave a nod in response. The Doctor clenched his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. All of this information was imperative and it made his blood boil. People were being taken from their homes and converted to something like the Plague Doctor—assuming they survived at all during the process. The fact that the Plague Doctor was the only one left meant more grim events in the coming future. Sofia Lamb was increasingly becoming someone who would continue a project even after all this; the Doctor feared that the Corporation was still taking people to be used which meant there would be more cases of the Plague Doctor.

"Here's one thing that I don't understand. Why are you infested with beetles and why are you controlling the ravens with them?" John piped up. He shirked in his spot when the Plague Doctor turned his head toward him. "One day a beetle fell into a slit on my face and got lodged. It consumed my tainted flesh and became tainted as well. It became a necessary evil, of sorts. The beetles consumed the flesh that remained and they colonized. The ravens became interested in the beetles and consumed them as they left through the slits. The substance tainted them as well," the Plague Doctor explained. Sherlock pointed, "Why ravens, why no other bird?"

"Ravens were all they had in the Evil's rookeries, great intelligence they proclaimed. The beetles honed in on them. Hence, the ravens I have now."

"You're using the ravens, why?"

"I cannot see the day, as the day cannot see me. The ravens allow me the only chance I have to see the sun."

"So you do hide in the night."

The Plague Doctor looked away, conveying shame. Sherlock cleared his throat. "Then, why do you help the homeless in Sherwood?" he asked. The Plague Doctor sighed heavily. "I am not a cruel man, not cruel like the She-Devil and the Evil. I too have a heart—what remains. No one questions free food and they do not judge me," he responded.

"Um, just humor me, but can the beetles cause harm to… to people?" John asked. The Plague Doctor scoffed, "The beetles are only capable of attracting ravens. No person has ever eaten a beetle and if they did, the only side effect that would happen is death. The amber substance that is my blood and theirs now, kill those who are not being converted. It eats away at their flesh and anything it comes into contact with."

"So, the only thing to come of it is death if anyone were unfortunate enough to eat a beetle?" John summed. The Plague Doctor nodded. Sherlock crossed his arms, "If you're controlling the ravens, why do they eat?"

"Just because I control them does not necessary mean they no longer abide by the laws of nature," the Plague Doctor told him. Sherlock glanced at the fish carcasses by his feet, half-pecked and the eyes gouged out, he shirked in his spot. He felt something poke him in the back and turned his head slightly to see the end of a rifle pointed at him. The soldiers were forcing John and Clara away from the Doctor and the Plague Doctor as one began to force him to follow suit. He and the others were not allowed to speak or make any noises, and since the Doctor was so intently speaking with the Plague Doctor, he didn't notice that they were being taken away.

The Plague Doctor's heavy head moved up, he moved his head looking around before he looked at the Doctor. "Doctor?" he called him. The Doctor nodded, "Yes?"

"Are we doomed men?" the Plague Doctor asked. The Doctor tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

"Are we doomed to remember? Forced to regale in memories that have purpose only to haunt us, remind us of former friends and family that we have lost, that nothing we do will ever bring us back to a point where we were happy men. Where we are forced to wander aimlessly, because we have no homes to our names, forced to carry the weight of our burden with no end in sight?" the Plague Doctor sighed. The Doctor looked at the ground temporary and looked up. "We prevail. We may be doomed as you say, but we prevail," the Doctor responded. The Plague Doctor gave a chuckle, sounds of popping emitting from the inner mask. "An honest answer, it has been far too long since I had heard an honest answer," the Plague Doctor admitted. The Doctor nodded, "I try to be."

"Do you grieve, Doctor?" the Plague Doctor asked him. He nodded. "I do," he replied. The Plague Doctor gave a nod, "Do you mourn the life that you once had before this?"

The Doctor looked at the ground. He never gave much thought about it at all. He remembered life on Gallifrey and the people he grew up with, people he was friends with and he even missed those that persecuted him. Famously, he was friends with the late Master, but the tides changed and the friendship they had soon soured and the once friends became bitter enemies. It ended when the Master was killed that one faithful Christmas. To this day, the Doctor missed his old life, missed his old friendship with the Master, and missed his friends and his companions. "I do," the Doctor finally replied.

"Then we neither so different, are we?" the Plague Doctor wondered. The Doctor nodded. "Neither different, yeah. But there is still one difference."

"Which… is?" the Plague Doctor waited. The Doctor answered, "Hope. I still have hope."

"A man who has lost many, still hopes?" the Plague Doctor questioned. The Doctor nodded. "A foolish prospect," the Plague Doctor spat. The Doctor crossed his arms, "It is the most constant thing in my life. I know I may not succeed but damn if I don't at least try."

"An amicable response, but how long will you hold to that?" the Plague Doctor asked him. He replied, "For as long as I damn live."

The Plague Doctor gave a nod. "Then answer me this, Doctor," the Plague Doctor eyed him. "Why do good men suffer?"

The Doctor looked to the ground. He truly didn't have a response to the Plague Doctor's question. He couldn't come up with an answer that would benefit them both and he wasn't about to go back on his part about lying. He couldn't give a generic answer either nor could he talk through his teeth. He gritted his teeth, "I-I don't know the answer."

The Plague Doctor gave a hollow sigh. The Doctor cleared his throat, "Let me help you."

"No Doctor, I'm far removed for your help. My time has come anyhow," the Plague Doctor slowly shook his head. "Time?" the Doctor stared. The Plague Doctor gave a nod.

"My time has come. I will not be alive much longer. My ravens will die without me and the beetles will follow soon after," he replied.

"What do you mean?" the Doctor demanded. "Goodbye, Doctor," the Plague Doctor merely said. Clara shrieked suddenly. The Doctor turned to see Clara, Sherlock, and John held at gunpoint as other soldiers pointed their rifles at the Plague Doctor. The Doctor was pulled away by force and all watched in horror as men opened fire on the Plague Doctor. He did not resist, nor did he even attempt to shield himself. He merely stood there and took the blunt of the bullets piercing his chassis, the bullets erupted the wirings and producing painful electric shocks. The beetles began to explode from the electric shocks produced from the bullets. The eggs began to pop, like popcorn, shocks sent up to the head where it pierced through the amber membrane and caused the Plague Doctor to let out a hollow moan. The Doctor fought the soldiers who held him and the others back as they watched the Plague Doctor's head violently twitched, amber liquid pouring from the slits of the mask and eyes. The soldiers were ordered to open fire and again and they complied, setting forth another barrage of bullets into the Plague Doctor. The Plague Doctor began to stumble, his head continued to twitch, sparks flew out from his exposed chest, revealing a compressed skeleton inside, enrobed in wires and preserved nerves. A loud thud emitted from the area as the Plague Doctor fell backwards into the waters, sparks continuing to fly. The Doctor yelled at the soldiers, demanding for answers, when he spotted Bradley and Moya near the Humvee, he pushed the soldiers away and stormed toward them. "Why did you kill him?" the Doctor shouted at Bradley and Moya. "He wasn't a threat!"

"We were under orders, we had no choice," Bradley shouted back. Moya nodded, "We had to follow them, Doctor."

"He was a _man_!" the Doctor insisted. "We know that, Doctor, but the higher ups deemed him a threat and so he had to be-he had to be eliminated," Bradley explained. The Doctor shook his head, "So you had men follow us out here so you can do him in once you learned what you wanted, is that it?"

"Our hands were tied!" Bradley shouted. The Doctor gritted his teeth, "You should've told me!"

"And what becomes of us when they learn we broke the directive and _told_ you our orders?" Bradley pointed at him. The Doctor scoffed. "And even if we did, there wouldn't a damn thing we could do," Bradley continued. The Doctor stared at him, "I could've helped!"

"And what would you've done? He was a corpse in a machine—a revenant—he was too far from for help, Doctor, and even if you did help him—it doesn't excuse the fact he killed a man!" Bradley responded. Moya looked at him, "Walker was dirty, and the thing knew him. Are you going to excuse his actions?"

"He would've been tried as any other," Bradley looked at her. Moya shook her head, "We wouldn't have known until after he was killed."

Bradley took a deep breath as the Doctor stared at the body of water. He pushed past the soldiers and stopped at the water's edge. He saw the Plague Doctor looking at him directly, the eyes changing from the pure silver to a dark, empty color. The Doctor watched as the body slowly disappeared into the depths of the canal as soldiers swarmed it with equipment. Sherlock and the others stood next to him, watching as men entered the canal, claiming what remained. Clara covered her mouth as she quietly sobbed; Sherlock and John were in disbelief. The Doctor rubbed his eyes, "I will stop them I promise you this, I will avenge you."


	22. Chapter 22

Gil Grissom was someone who many never really knew well. He was known as the bug guy, simply because of his collection of insects. In truth he hid many things from people. He hid his past and everything and everyone in it. So much so, that no one could ever get anything from him. Grissom hid it very well for many reasons. One of the reasons was simply because he knew now that he wasn't looking any innocent than Walker was. In truth, he himself wasn't saintly. He knew the beetles, the ones that squirmed in the container on his desk. It wasn't all smoke and mirror as he made it. The beetles did come from the Plague Doctor, but they didn't come from him originally, they came from him. Grissom had worked for the Corporation at a time, as a biologist. He was studying beetles, seeing if they could be modified to be used for other things that Sofia wanted. His work never worked out, as the beetles kept escaping their enclosures and eating the leftover foods left in the break room. Yet one day, he noticed the beetles were attracting the attention of the ravens for some reason. The ravens kept trying to eat them and the beetles weren't in a hurry in escaping the ravens' clutches.

Grissom studied the aftermath and found that the beetles were mutated, no longer the simple North American carrion beetles he had, and they were far different from their former. He tried to trace the mutations back, but could never find the source. Sofia didn't care; she prized her Subjects more than beetles and ravens. Grissom kept an eye on the beetles and found they always came around after the Subjects were allowed to roam the halls. He eventually found out that the beetles colonized within the Subjects, consuming their weight in tainted flesh and becoming mutated.

Telling Sofia was something he couldn't do. She was never keen on insects as he was and she would've never allowed the beetles to continue existing. So Grissom kept quiet and went about his work. He stayed with the Corporation for sixteen years before he eventually transitioned out and found new work, eventually winding up at UNIT. He managed to get out of explaining his entire career history because the Corporation had modified phone numbers and the like to fool those who ever tried to look into the Corporation. Grissom heard of Alice Walker, the former Warden-Commander, taking up as a Patrolman for the London Police Department, which UNIT had contacts with. They knew better to associate with one another or even give any sort of suggestion that they knew each other prior.

Alice was the same as before, with less arrogance since he was demoted from being the Warden-Commander of the Keepers to being a simple Patrolman. He transitioned out of Corporation purely because he feared for his life as the Subjects were becoming increasingly irresponsive to the Keepers and their control rods. He feared for his life and that was a fact that he kept until his death. Neither Grissom nor Walker knew what happened to the Corporation after they left for this universe. They rather not, as Sofia had threatened anyone who let it slip what was really going on in the Corporation would be forced into the Conversion Process by brute force.

They knew what became of those who were taken into the Conversion Process, some died, some didn't but died later, and so forth. Walker himself was responsible for taking the most people to be converted, when he was a Guard and had to go out and bring back subjects for use. Walker never really recovered from the fact he condemned many to death or a cruel form of imprisonment, in fact he worried that the Subjects would avenge their fallen brethren by killing him and the other Guards involved. Walker wasn't all there to begin with, a common thing amongst the Guards who worked in the Corporation . They never did wrangle with that particular conundrum.

Whatever the case might've been, they were both out of the Corporation. All was well until Walker was killed. Grissom at first never thought about it, as he wasn't inherently responsible for the Subjects conversion. After seeing his beetles happily colonizing inside Subject Delta and their abilities to mutate ravens into becoming his eyes and ears, though, Grissom feared that Delta would come for him next. What was more was that the Subject was out in the first place. It either meant it escaped or the Corporation Grissom tried so hard to hide wasn't able to handle the Subjects much longer after he and Walker had left. Grissom wondered what became of the other Subjects and if they had escaped as well. There were only five when he left but by that time Sofia wanted to start on the next series, so he didn't know if any more were successfully converted.

Sofia wanted to stop the Cybermen at any cost—or any threat for that matter and decided using humans was good enough. She wanted to see if she could use the Cybermen's philosophies of deleting undesired traits and weaknesses in her own fashion. Suffice to say she succeeded and she decided that she wanted to be held to the highest regard—and decided that having her own personal army would be a start. She never cared who the subjects were when they were brought to be converted—they were all numbers for her. The only thing she ever treated remotely human was her daughter—Emma. Though, she kept Emma far away as possible from the research.

Grissom didn't have a dog in those fights. He was a researcher, nothing more. He studied insects and decided their usefulness; he wasn't a part of what happened to the subjects. In the end, Grissom figured that Subject Delta wouldn't come after him. After all, he overheard some conversations of passing soldiers leaving to escort the Doctor and his companions, all saying that the higher ups wanted Subject Delta dead. Grissom's fear about retribution was null and void, Subject Delta would be dead by the time the Doctor heard enough about the Corporation from it before the soldiers would kill it.

Grissom sat at his desk, he was reading through the paperwork as he went about signing the ones that required his signature. He glanced at the beetles that moved around, he was waiting to hear back from higher up to decide what would become of the beetles. Grissom expected the beetles to be destroyed given their tainted nature, yet he wanted to keep them as a sort of memento. It was something he was known for doing when it came to insects—even those he held prior to being a part of UNIT. Even if they perished anyway, he'd at least keep their carcasses on display as he had done for the others he collected during his years of service under UNIT. As for the raven, since it was not affected, it was to be given to a bird sanctuary in Cheshire and for now it took up residence in Grissom's office until the paperwork was accepted.

Grissom shuffled the papers and went through them one more time, taking quick swigs of his coffee and bites out of his hamburger. The papers would plenty and Grissom knew for a fact that he'd had to sign them all within the night or else he'd hear about it from his superiors the next morning. The raven was calmly pecking at the food provided, the only sounds coming from it were its beak smacking against the seeds and pellets. Just as Grissom was finishing up, Nick stuck his head in through the doorway and told him that the lab needed him to sign off on a few things. Grissom nodded and stood up, wiping down his clothes, crumbs scattering on the floor, and walked with Nick toward the lab, the technicians needed his signature for some equipment to be brought in. Grissom obliged and signed off on the request, he was then asked about the beetles by the technicians who were curious about them.

"Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to keep them around you?" Sara asked him. Walter nodded, "I think you ought to destroy them right then and there."

"What are you talking about, they're still beetles," Grissom shook his head. The technicians shirked in their spots and bit down on their lips. Nick sighed, "Look, there's a reason why Grissom's a bug expert. If he says they're fine, then they're fine."

"Thank you, Nick," Grissom nodded.

Grissom returned to his office, closing the door behind him, he took off his glasses and rubbed his light blue eyes. It was going to be a long night, he knew it. What with the Doctor chasing around the Plague Doctor and whatnot, Grissom was going to be asked under the sun about the beetles and the ravens. He stopped when he saw the container on the ground facedown. He went to it and propped it up; the beetles were wiggling their legs as they tried to regain their footing. Grissom helped them as he sat the container down on his desk. He was bemused on how the container would've fallen off his desk, he kept it away from the sides as he always done and it was too heavy to be accidentally moved on its own. Grissom concluded that someone must've been in his office and knocked it off accidentally and cowardly ran off, afraid of what he might've said if he found the culprit in his midst. As Grissom sat down, he looked at the beetles as he sipped on his coffee. They regained their footing and huddled closed to one another as Grissom watched them. He sat down his empty coffee mug on the table and cough lightly, he drank the coffee too quick. Grissom held a fist on his chest as he coughed, the pain subsided and he sighed. "I have to stop doing that," Grissom shook his head. He stopped when he noticed something off. He counted the beetles in the container; he stopped when he got to six. There were two beetles missing, one medium sized and one very big one. Grissom looked under his feet, under his desk, near his filing cabinets, but couldn't find either one of the beetles. He glanced at the raven whose head was down, it was shaking violently, and it subsided when the raven raised its head up, revealing amber eyes.

Grissom stumbled backward and pointed, "Impossible!"

An idea struck him and he went back to his coffee mug and looked inside, there was a thin black but noticeable leg of one of the beetles at the center. Grissom touched his throat. "I-I couldn't have…" he trailed. He felt his world around him spinning, he couldn't feel his skin, his face was cold, and he glanced at window to his office and saw a terrifying sight. He saw the Plague Doctor standing there, where he was. Grissom fell to his knees as he clutched his head, sharp pains intensified in his brain. Thoughts that weren't his started to attack his own, he heard a foreign voice that boomed, it sounded metallic and indiscernible. His memories were being wiped away and replaced, no longer did he remember graduating at the top of his class, instead he remembered a village that he was born and raised in. He remembered Alice Walker as a family friend who was a bit weird, but nevertheless a good man, until one faithful night where he abducted him, smacked a baton over his head and dragged him into a van. He remembered the horrible things done to his body; the awful tastes of the medicine they force fed him, how he felt his life was slipping away and then some. How he woke up as a hulking monstrosity meant to kill Cybermen without so much as blinking, not that it'd matter much since they cut his eyelids off and then some. Grissom's own memories were wiped clean and replaced with someone else's and there was nothing he could do about it. Grissom couldn't scream as he slumped near his desk, his eyes closing on their own and his mouth remained gap.

It felt like hours if not years since it passed. Grissom's eyes slowly opened and he glanced around his office. He glanced at the raven that looked down to him. Grissom stood up and ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the reflective sheen of the diploma that hung near the filing cabinets. His head turned to the raven as it chirped, he went toward it and rubbed it on the top of its head. The raven lovingly head butted his finger and Grissom smiled. He then checked the time, it was close to five, and the Doctor and his companions would be coming back to UNIT shortly. Grissom readied and went about the room pouring onto the floor the various liquid that he kept on the shelves. He poured much of it on the desk, coating the container containing the now dead beetles, he would continue this until he finished. Grissom tilted his head toward the left; there had been an accident in the lab, the amber substance caught fire and has begun to overtake the lab in mere seconds. He smiled. Suddenly smoke alarms were set off and a woman blared over the speakers imploring everyone to vacate their workstations and to head toward the safety zone. As smoke bellowed from the lab, trekking through the halls, Grissom picked up the birdcage and calmly walked into the smoke. He stopped and turned to the office and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a matchbook and a packet of cigarettes. With them lit, he tossed them onto the wooden desk as he left through an unguarded exit door, his raven cawing in the distant as they seemingly disappeared into the night.


	23. Chapter 23

A fire had broken out in UNIT. Something had happened in the labs to cause a fire and it had spread violently throughout the complex. The alarm went off quickly enough to prevent causalities, the only concerns were smoke inhalation and burns, but other than that it was a blazing fire. Thankfully it didn't continue its reign as the fire prevention system kicked in and put out the fire with a foamy white substance that coated the area and the fire immediately died down. It took thirty minutes for the fire to end completely and for the marshals to declare that it was safe. By the time the Doctor and his companions arrived back, much of everything they found pertaining to the Corporation and the late Plague Doctor had been destroyed in the blaze. The lab was in tatters and covered in black gunk that stuck to the area like tar, the samples collected previously had melted to the tables, ruined and unsalvageable.

Scouts went to look for Grissom who had been absent during the ordeal, only to find that he had disappeared. There was no trace of him and his office had been destroyed completely, the marshals have declared that the fire in the office was different than the one in the lab and indicated that there was another fire started. While the scouts continued to search for Grissom, the Doctor leered at Bradley and Moya.

"We were following orders," Bradley repeated. The Doctor shook his head, "He wasn't a Cyberman."

"He is right," Moya looked at Bradley. Bradley sighed. "Look, Doctor, if I had a choice in the matter I would've gone to you but I did not have that luxury," he said. The Doctor glanced at passing soldiers bringing in the body bag of what remained of the Plague Doctor. The Doctor chewed on his lips, "What are you going to do with the body?"

"It'll be incinerated," Bradley replied. The Doctor nodded.

Sherlock looked at what remained of Grissom's office. It was blackened and nothing remained, odd. Sherlock remembered all the insects that were preserved on the shelves; he didn't see them at all. He stepped carefully around the remnants and stopped when he noticed a glass shard stuck in a pile of ash. With a pair of tweezers Sherlock dug it out and looked at it. It came from one of the jars, but something was off. The jar was on the ground long before the fire broke out in Grissom's office. It couldn't have fallen on its own; the way the glass cracked around the edges told another story. Grissom or some other threw down the jar onto the ground. Why, Sherlock didn't know. He stood up and glanced at where the desk was and tilted his head, the container was blackened and he went toward it. Carefully he pried it apart to find the beetles were nothing but ash, the fire was apparently hot enough to burn them to cinder. Sherlock stopped and turned around, there was no birdcage there, and he remembered the raven distinctly being at that exact spot. There was no indication it was in the fire, so it meant it wasn't in the office during the time of the fire. Sherlock chatted around but found that the raven was in the office last anyone peeked in and he tilted his head in thought.

The raven wasn't in the office when was on fire and Grissom was gone. He pondered until John came to him with a look. "Talked around, nobody really knew Grissom well," he said. Sherlock crossed his arms, "Really?"

"His employment records are odd, they say," John continued. Sherlock pointed, "What was his last employment?"

"Don't know," John sighed. Sherlock rubbed his chin, "I believe there was more to Grissom than I thought."

"What you mean?" John looked. Sherlock raised a finger, "His behavior. He knew more about the beetles than he let on."

"I'm not following," John shook his head. Sherlock sighed. "Grissom was involved, somehow," Sherlock spelled out to John. John stopped, "So, why almost burn down UNIT, why destroy the beetles?"

"The beetles could've been tied to him somehow. What better way of destroying evidences than to burn them and cause chaos to cover it up. Flee while everyone is busied with trying to put out the fires," Sherlock summed. John nodded, "Plausible, but what about the raven?"

Sherlock pondered, he tried to think of why Grissom would take the raven with him. Then again, it might've been a humanitarian thing. Grissom wanted to burn away all the evidence that could easily put him in the spotlight, but presumably felt that the raven deserved better and took it with him. At this point, Sherlock wasn't sure what to think.

"He probably didn't like the thought of it dying in the fire," Sherlock shrugged. "Took it with him and probably released it."

"Well, I suppose that would make some sense," John nodded. "He's trying to flee before convictions; I don't think he wants to add animal abuse to the list of charges he'd no doubt get."

The TARDIS was checked on courtesy of a soldier and it had not suffered damage from the fire or smoke, so some of the Doctor's fears rested easily, after all he had plenty to deal with. Both he and Clara stood in the burnt halls of UNIT, pondering what to do from there.

"Doctor, what are we going to do?" Clara asked the Doctor. The Doctor sighed, "I rightly don't know."

He rubbed his face. "We'll take the boys back to their universe… and then we'll go from there," he mustered. Clara nodded. She glimpsed at the body bag as it was being carried off into the restricted areas of UNIT and frowned. "That poor man, do you think he still felt it all after all these years?" Clara wondered. The Doctor pondered, "Given what little we know. He probably felt the beetles eating him."

"That's terrifying," Clara shivered. The Doctor sighed, "Nothing more terrifying than that, Clara."

The Doctor cleared his throat and walked with Clara toward Sherlock and John while they both looked around the remnants of Grissom's office. "What are you two doing?" the Doctor asked them. Sherlock looked at him, "Grissom was a part of it."

"Beg pardon?" the Doctor tilted his head. John nodded, "His records were almost exact as Walker's. Down to the detail both were scrubbed down and rewritten."

"How did you figure it out?" the Doctor asked. Sherlock cleared his throat, "How else did he know so much about the beetles?"

"He was a bug expert," Clara remembered. Sherlock nodded, "True, but how did he know that the beetles only affected ravens?"

"Trial and error?" the Doctor gestured. Sherlock shook his head, "He showed us as means to look as if he figured it out. However, his body language said otherwise, he already knew. In fact, he didn't even have to do anything."

"So what then, did he create the beetles?" Clara asked. Sherlock sighed, "That I don't know, Clara."

"Why would he create the beetles in the first place, if in that case?" John questioned. The Doctor chewed on his lips, "Then that's another footnote on the case."

Clara tilted her head, "Then why would he wait so long before he fled?"

"He probably didn't count on any of this to happen. If he knew Walker, then his death tipped him off something was happening," Sherlock pondered. John sighed, "I guess that means we'll have to keep looking."

The Doctor sighed, "Unfortunately I'll have to put you two back in your universe before me and Clara can look into this more."

"What do you mean?" John stared. "I told you, after this was said and done I'll take you both back. You didn't think I'd let you stay longer than you had to, did you?" the Doctor tilted his head. Sherlock stared at the Doctor, "You're not telling us the full story are you, Doctor?"

"What story?" John turned to Sherlock. Sherlock stared, "We'll forget the moment he drops us off. Isn't that the plan, Doctor?"

The Doctor stared back at Sherlock. He slowly nodded, "Impressive."

"Wait, I'd forget about this?" John points. The Doctor nodded. John balked, "Why?"

"Do you really want to remember this?" the Doctor pointed. John crossed his arms, "Why yes, yes I _do_!"  
"Why?" the Doctor asked him. John pointed back, "Look it here, Q, it's bloody ignorant that you'd never _asked_ us if we would want to remember this event or not. Some things _cannot_ be forgotten!"

Sherlock nodded. "And if they're taking people from different universes, it's imperative if we know what we can to look into these matters," Sherlock pointed. John nodded quickly. The Doctor chewed on his lips, "If you remembered this. People might think you're nuts."

"Doctor, what the _hell_ do you think they call _me_ for working with _him_?" John pointed at Sherlock. "I've been called that for five years!"

Sherlock nods. "It's true," he simply said.

The Doctor huffed, "Well if you want to remember so damn much then, then you ought to damn well know the risks at hand."

It was a longwinded conversation, to the brink of insanity. But with some compromises and a quick break, it was all worked out. Sherlock and John could keep their memories of their adventure, but if only they kept it a secret from everyone else. John could write about it, but had to wash it completely and sterilize everything that would be compromising; of course he had to come up with details to replace the ones that were wiped away. Sherlock could easily lie to Lestrade and everyone else if they ever asked about him and John's hereabouts. If the Doctor were to call on them, he'd give them a week notice. It would've been a simple postcard dated the day the Doctor would appear and then some. Of course, they discussed what would become of the Plague Doctor's presence in Sherwood.

Since he was never in Sherlock and John's universe, they'd forget about him entirely. Which also meant that the London Crows wouldn't have a reason to dress up as Plague Doctors anymore, they wouldn't have been inspired to do so, the Doctor discussed what changes would be expected after the actual Plague Doctor's death. He would be forgotten by the people he helped, the Plague Doctor. However, John had a sly idea that could benefit Sherwood and keep the Plague Doctor's memory alive. "We still have the cassette tape," John commented. Sherlock nodded, "Yes, we do."

"They were at a pub last I seen them," John rubbed his chin. Sherlock smiled, "Inspire them to be London Crows."

"And you still have that promise to keep," John reminded him. Sherlock tilted his head, "Should I be in costume?"

"Exactly," John pointed.

When everything cleared up at UNIT, the Doctor led the three inside the TARDIS. As before, everyone readied and the Doctor flipped several switches and then some. The TARDIS hummed and rattled slightly as it shot through time and space, returning to Sherwood, precisely a day after Sherlock and John were taken into the TARDIS. The Doctor opened the door for them and they both stepped out, the sun was brimming and there hadn't been a cloud in sight, John turned to him, "When will we see you again?"

"I don't like making promises, John," the Doctor sighed. "Bad matters if I did and I didn't keep them."

"Will our universe be safe?" Sherlock asked him. The Doctor pondered, "Well, aside from some things. I'd say you're square."

"Um, but Doctor, on the off chance something does happen, how do we get into contact with you?" John remembered. The Doctor gave them a card with a particular phone number. The Doctor pointed at the card, "Call me up on the mobile, I'll be sure to take it."

"Right then, um, I don't know if it'd be appropriate to say thank you for taking us with you to, uh, UNIT and whatnot. So, all I'd say is, um, Godspeed, Doctor," John mustered. Sherlock raised a hand out to the Doctor. The Doctor took it and shook his hand. "See, you lot can be friends," Clara smiled. The Doctor chuckled, "_Only_ in your dreams, lass."

With that, the TARDIS disappeared before Sherlock and John's very eyes. It was a longwinded day of speaking with Lestrade amid the disappearance, but with some white lies on Sherlock's part, no one even raised a brow at them. It was a good thing. The case involving the murdered stock broker was closed and the assistant charged with murder. John dropped the cassette off at the Owen Pub and told the then-London Crows if they wanted to do good, feed and care for the homeless and then some. Sherlock kept his promise and one night he adorned a plague doctor costume and helped fed the homeless, when Pat asked questions about him. When he revealed his face, she was happy as can be and spun around the alley, happily telling everyone she called it!

The day ended and Sherlock and John returned to their respected homes. John couldn't help but hug Mary as if he hadn't seen her in days and rushed to type everything up that he could for that night. Sherlock returned to 221B Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson didn't bat an eye as he went up to his flat and merely played the violin for the remainder of the night. He couldn't help but look out the windows time to time, he silently expected someone to be outside at the corner of the road.

"Lon-don Crow, Lon-don Crow," Sherlock hummed the song as he played on the violin.


	24. Epilogue

A man in his mid-forties sat outside the café in Galahad, he stared into his book, slowly turning the page. His light silver eyes moved across the page, he murmured to himself the sentences as he read. It had been four nights and three days since he arrived back in Galahad. In those few days he managed to secure a simple cottage and a job at the local bookstore, even finding a nice café to eat whenever the feeling arises. He loved Galahad—it was as he remembered, abet more modern. When he was younger the buildings were worn and withered, Shoppes were family owned, but now as he glanced around it had taken to the new age quite well. There were still remnants of the olden days, but the rest were newer and more modern, there was a fancy jewelry store here, a fast food place there, a mix between the classics and new. Above all else, it was home to the man. And he wouldn't have it any other way. When his cup of tea arrived, the man stopped reading and took the cup into his hand, lightly sipping on the tea. As he sipped on it, he glanced up to the signpost above the café, sitting there was a raven with amber eyes. A smile appeared on the man's face, as he sat the cup gently down on the plate, closing his book completely. The man held out a hand and the raven took notice. It flew down from the signpost and landed on his hand, the man stroked the raven's head. The raven looked into his eyes, he saw his reflection, a man with peppered hair, fine lines, light silver eyes, and it had been very long since he saw his own reflection. The raven flew off his hand and he watched as it flew over a business. The man smiled, he hummed lightly, "Lon-don Crow, Lon-don Crow."

As he sipped on his tea, the man opened his book again and jotted down notes for a story he was writing. He was inspired to take up being a writer by someone known as John Watson. Of course, he was never known here or anywhere really, his name was more or less associated with a titular character in a world famous novel series by a well-known author. However, the man made it clear to have him somewhere in his story, as a thank you for the inspiration, though he knew John would never be able to see it. The man stopped writing momentary and sipped on his tea, he missed the taste of tea, and everything about it was as good as he remembered

"Enjoying the tea, Mr. Colton?" asked the waitress. Colton smiled, "I am, thank you."

"How's the writing going?" the waitress continued. Colton chuckled, "I think I have a better shot writing stories for kiddies."

"Ah, don't say that. Come on, read it to me," the waitress suggested. Colton rubbed his clean shaven chin. "It might bore you," he warned. The waitress sat down across from him and Colton turned pages back to his completed chapters. He cleared his throat as he read his own work.

* * *

IT WAS COLD—cold beyond any human notion. It was dark and the only things lit were streetlights. Fog slowly covered the landscape and it was thick enough that nothing could be seen through it. A common sight for the little town of Sherwood, with that, few ever treaded outside in the night.

Only one ever desired to tread in the night. An imposing figure to those that bear witness, but ever so silent that neither ever knows what goes through the blank eyes that always stared straight and never blink, but all know the familiar traits—wearing the infamous clothing worn by plague doctors of then. No one quite knows when the Plague Doctor came to town or even why, just that by night he lumbers through the night and by dawn disappears.

He could be seen in Sherwood Alley, populated by the homeless. Those that meet him are given supplies without so much as a glance and moves on to the others. Many have tried to speak with him, but failed to get any response. On cold nights, or when there has been violence toward them, he stayed with the homeless until just before dawn where he would then disappear into the unknown.

* * *

Colton continued to read until he got to the part he was currently writing. The waitress seemed interested and she smiled. "That was wonderful, how did you think differently?" she asked him. Colton shrugged. "Most people don't care for mystery anymore," he sighed. The waitress chuckled. "Come now, you can prove them wrong, surely," she assured him. Colton chuckled himself. "If only it were simple," he rubbed his eyes. The waitress nodded. She was called away and had to leave the table, she gave a smile before she stood up and walked into the café. Colton gave a grin to a raven that had just perched on an empty chair. It gave a look back in return and he chuckled. He called for it and it flew onto the empty chair the waitress was occupying. "What a horrible transition," Colton admitted. The raven nodded. Colton sighed. "If it was only easier, but how else was I supposed to do it?" he rubbed his eyes. He stopped, "But then again, it was a good thing he kept them around as long as he did. I knew those festering things had their uses."

Colton sat back in the iron chair. "I suppose it was wrong of me. But I had to go _somewhere_. I couldn't exactly walk around like a costumed maniac forever and they did do a job of mucking up the remnants. A pity about him, Grissom, if only I could thank him in person."

He gave a chuckle. "Of course, he knew the risks," he reminded himself. He knew Grissom quite well in fact. Grissom was always in that lab of his, messing about with those insects. He never raised a fuss about him and the others unless they were wandering too close to his office. Grissom never even cared for the fact that those were humans who walked around in those chassis. He preferred insects over humans, really. Colton remembered Grissom as a cold-hearted man who never cared at all. Grissom reasoned several times over that he wasn't responsible, he shouldn't suffer. Oh, but Colton knew he was speaking through his ugly teeth—as did Walker whenever he leered at Colton and the others whenever he passed them in the hall. They were empathic dolts who'd do anything for good fortune, no matter what had to happen for them to get it. And they were both dead and Colton was happy with the results. What's more, he got a neat new body out of Grissom; Walker's wasn't inherently something he considered using, Walker had been known for sneaking around to parts of London where nightwalkers tended to be and he was never known for being clean to begin with. Colton didn't worry about someone recognizing Grissom's body, in fact it took on the appearance of his old body, courtesy of the Amber that contained his blood and DNA that rewrote Grissom's DNA entirely. It was a slow transition, not very painful at all, but it took a while before the body converted into Colton's original image. A tall, thin man, somewhat pale complexation, with muscles, fine lines on the face and of course, the eyes, though it was a minor thing. The eyes still looked pure silver, a minor side effect, but since Colton could easily blink and move them again, no one will have the chance to look at them. In all, Colton had returned to life.

The raven, Hermes, took off and disappeared over a business as Colton took a quick sip of his tea. Colton silently planned what he will be doing next with his newfound freedom. He knew there was no chance the Doctor or others alike to find him here. He and this Galahad were from another universe, far from the other two, far that the Doctor wouldn't even be able to pick up on. In this universe, Sherlock and John weren't real people, just namesake characters from a famous book series. The Doctor wasn't real either and there were no conventional monsters and the like for him to even bother with this universe to begin with. It crossed Colton's mind that he had some unfinished business to attend to in the coming future, something that was very dear to his heart. He wanted peace, peace for the others like him, those still bound to steel and wires, no freer than a Cyberman. Colton sat the teacup down on the table and rubbed his eyes, he knew where the others were, it was one of the things that was imprinted early on, to always know where the other was, even if they weren't in the same universe or other. True that he lied to the Doctor, Colton had already known from the start that the Doctor himself had proneness to lie whenever the need arises and so he took advantage of it, but Colton had to lie, the Doctor would've inferred with his true purpose.

Colton would find them all again, as he had promised many years ago before their escape that faithful day. He would help them reclaim their humanity and punish those that had taken their humanity in the first place. Sofia Lamb was in hiding in the depths of the Pacific, hidden with the scientists she still kept with her to the end, she wasn't a fool, and Colton planned to track her down once he had regained his brethren. Colton glanced to skies above and rubbed his chin. There was still much to do.

The End


	25. Letter from Sofia

Dear scientists and staff of the Hal Corporation of Science and Technology,

I come to you with an offer. Return to the Compound. I know that the Corporation has since abandoned it and destroyed copies of our work. But, I have found an answer to our problem. As you all remember, that faithful day in which the Alpha Series had turned on us and attacked us, killing most of our men and women, including former Warden Ryan. On that **Red Letter Day**, they all disappeared and never turned up. We all thought they died, thought they would never return, thought they'd never come after us.

The aftermath as you remember was a sordid one. The Corporation had cut all ties to us, threw us aside, claimed what we made and sold it for scraps while destroying what notes we made. Those lucky were able to work elsewhere in the Corporation while the rest were left to pick up the pieces.

They were frightened as we were; none of us knew what was coming, what would've happened. No one knew. We lost our jobs, our colleagues, our work, and it seemed like we had reached the end of an era.

Unfortunately, I have to call upon you all once again.

We must return to the Compound. We must finish what we have started.

Sincerely,

Sofia Lamb, PHD


	26. Alpha

Joseph

It began as a simple day, on Halloween in Norfolk, Virginia; the family went to grab more candy for the cauldron and to pick up some fast food to get through the cold night. Joseph heard his wife tell him to be careful as she drove off in the Ford, with two heads poking out of the backseat window. He waved to them and he took his spot. Left alone, to tend to the children and teens that came up on the deck with their costumes of various cartoon characters and even a few live action ones here and there, all asking for the same thing: candy. Joseph was sitting in the white plastic chair and wore a doctor man's mask, it was originally blue with gold paint, bought from the costume store but he fancied a makeover and redid the mask to be more or less like the original. Joseph smiled as he handed the candy off to the children, some scared of his mask and others poking at it. He had a couple of younger children try to yank it off, but of course their parents managed to pull them away in time.

Joseph mused that his wife be quick to hurry home, as the candy in the cauldron was slowly going down in quantity as the night went on. He tried to keep it a piece each to get through just until they got back. As he waited, he planned the route he'd take his girls. They will be hyper being that tonight isn't a school night and that they'll have their favorite fast food as dinner alongside one Halloween candy as dessert so it had to be a long route. Martha would object them going to the Watson's haunted house, so that wasn't possible. Perhaps a trip to the elderly couple, Jim and Irene, would do them some good, since Jim would likely be using his chainsaw again this year. The loving father of two hoped that this route would make his girls tired for bed, and be easier to push into their rooms for the night. He hoped anyway. Kimberly was stubborn about sleeping on non-school night and Jody would want to watch the Halloween specials that were coming on later that night. So, he planned to talk Martha into allowing them to stay up tonight and to go to bed early tomorrow night. After all, Halloween came only once a year.

"Trick or treat!" a group came up and said just after the children walked down the steps. Joseph obliged and happily doled out the candy evenly. The teens thanked him and went over to his neighbor Ferguson's home across the street, where he was done up as the one and only, Leatherface from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie, scaring the kids as they came up his driveway. He laughed mercilessly to the children who ran screaming to their parents as they laughed. It was hilarious, the children would be unwilling to go up the driveway and the parents would urge them on until they finally went up to the cornstalk that the boys helped put up and then Leatherface in all his glory came out from behind and ran after them with the chainsaw sans its chains riled up. Kimberly and Jody would demand to come to his house first. Ferguson loved his job; it looked, as he shot a look of victory over to Joseph as he settled in his seat. Joseph waved and of course, Ferguson waved with his chainsaw in hand.

It must've been an hour into Halloween night and children were clamoring all at once for candy, it worried Joseph that Martha and the girls might not make it back before there was a riot from upset children who are without their candy. Luckily they took to Ferguson more than a man wearing only a plague doctor's mask so there were fewer children than before.

"Trick or treat!" said the last of the children. Joseph gave them their candy and they scampered off toward Ferguson's. Joseph watched as the children ran up the driveway toward the cornstalk before running back down when Ferguson came running down while laughing manically. "Come to me, my sweet meat!" cried Ferguson as he chased the children back to their parents.

The children wailed in fear as their parents lead them down the street. Ferguson giggled like a madman as he disappeared behind the cornstalk. Joseph chuckled as he kept an eye out for any other children. The first half had already came through, which meant that in a short few minutes a horde of the second bunch was due in. For now, Joseph wanted a quick drink.

Taking a break with no children in the proximity of the driveway, Joseph stood up from his chair, pulling down his checkered jacket that bunched up, and grabbed for a water bottle he stuck under the chair just before Halloween officially started. He heard a vehicle park in the family's driveway and footsteps coming behind him as he took a quick sip from the bottle. He didn't turn around as he called out a name, "Martha?"

He didn't hear a response. He assumed that Martha and the kids were playing one of their Halloween tricks. Joseph chuckled, "Alright, you got me. I'm really scared, oooh."

Suddenly, Joseph felt sharp pain; it wasn't his mind having a moment or him kneeling on prickly hay. He lightly touched his stomach and felt something sticky, when he brought his hands to his face, it was blood.

Blood oozed from his lower abdomen from a needle that went through his back as he fell to the ground and almost avoiding the chair. His eyes dizzyingly looking around rapidly, seeing blurred shapes of various sizes surrounding him. He tried to talk, but all that came out were gargled nonsense that was muffled by the conversation the blurred shapes were having. They grabbed for him and dragged him down the steps, blood covering much of them and only thing the man saw before finally succumbing to his injury was the blurred two-story home.

Alpha comes first…

_This is Subject Alpha. He is the oldest working model in the Alpha Series we have here in the Corporation. Now I'm sure you're wondering, 'Is it as dangerous as the other ones'. Yes and no. See, Alpha is second to easiest one to control. However, he is one of the more fickle ones we have. So keep that in mind. In order for you, the Keeper, to keep Subject Alpha in line, you have to keep these things in mind. He does not like his reflection at all. I know, it's weird and all, but don't show him a mirror or any reflective surface. While all the areas in the labs are matte finished and thus he cannot see his reflection, there are still areas with a reflective surface. If you are wearing glasses, they need to have a matte finish applied to them. It will not affect your prescription in any shape or form. So, please tell your current supervisor that you need your prescription to have a matte finish applied and he or she will help you. Failure to do will have Alpha react poorly. He will attempt to destroy any reflective surfaces, including your glasses. He has not injured anyone, but do not get cocky. He is a weapon that must be treated with great care. And remember to please treat the Alpha with some courtesy nevertheless. He didn't pick what he wore. It's not his fault he looks like a Halloween costume. So please, keep that in mind. And if you need any questions answered, your supervisor will gladly answer them. If your supervisor doesn't, then report the supervisor and report to Sofia Lamb until you are reassigned to another supervisor._


	27. Beta

Leon

Leon was no stranger to the nightlife Halloween brought out. He loved Halloween, not just for the candy that he could procure from the stores but also the costumes that come into play. Not only were there clubs having their own Halloween bashes, they also had clad women wearing revealing costumes of popular characters, all in an arm's reach. Leon was rather fond of the club on Broadway, near a popular deli specifically because of the costumes the women there wore.

Think of Batgirl and the like in revealing costumes, all happily dancing on the dance floor. All there looking like they just came out of an X-rated comic book series, all there waiting to be mingled with, and Leon was especially interested in Ms. Batgirl, AKA, Jody Greer, and she was interested in him.

Leon parked his Camino in the parking space and hopped out wearing his own costume. Batman was already taken, so Leon went with the second best thing, Superman. In a weird fashion known only to those of the nightlife scene, this made more sense than the actual comics, as Leon happily walked inside the Crystal and was met with a scene of his dreams.

Men and women, all dressed up in different costumes, all mingling near the bar area and the dance floor. Leon went over to the bar area first, he needed his Kryptonite to dance with Batgirl, after all. "Happy Halloween, Leo," the bartender, George, greeted him as he had just handed a customer a bottle of larger. "Happy Halloween, George, what's tonight's special?" Leon asked him. George smiled and replied, "Blood Rum."

"What's in it?" Leon asked. George answered, "It's your top shelf rum, with a slice of blood orange, pomegranate juice, and for those who dare a shot of blood."

"Shot of blood?" Leon blinked. George nods, "Yep, the blood's fresh from the butcher down the road. Just because I'm required to, it's from pigs, American and raised, nothing in the blood that'd make you sick, lest you're allergic."

Leon considered. He nodded, "Sure, get me the Blood Rum."

"With pleasure," George smiled. His smile was off, something about it didn't seem right to Leon. Leon had been to the Crystal for as long as he lived in New York, he knew all the bartenders who worked there but George was someone he never was acquitted with. George had only been working in the bar area of the Crystal for six months now, but the way George looked at him, something about his smile was… strange to say the least.

Leon supposed that George might've had feelings for him. Leon was not someone to judge, but unfortunately for George, Leon didn't swing that way. However, Leon thought he'd make up for that fact by setting George up with an acquaintance of his, it was only proper. If that is, George was thinking of him that way.

After George shot the red blood from the syringe into the glass, he handed it to Leon. Leon took it into his free hand and paid for the drink. As he sipped, Leon had no idea what to say about the Blood Rum. He thought the blood would overpower the taste, but it seemingly worked. It cut the acid down in the pomegranate juice and blood orange slice to a level that seemed appropriate for this kind of drink and with the rum it brought it all together in perfect harmony. Suffice to say, Leon liked the drink.

Leon continued to drink from his glass, eying the entrance of the Crystal. He was looking forward to meeting his Batgirl for a dance and hoped his Kryptonite would dull the fact that he'd be dancing. Leon was not someone who danced, he'd watched girls dance on poles, but he himself was someone who never danced. He just didn't have the feet for it.

However, with the Blood Rum in his stomach now, Leon hoped that his dance with Batgirl would go well. To Leon's delight, here came Batgirl in her supped up costume. It hugged her body tightly, to the point there wasn't anything bunched up or crinkled, her cape lightly moved as she headed her way towards Leon. "Hey Leo," she said sweetly. Leon smiled as he rested his glass on the counter, "I thought we weren't supposed to use our real names?"

"Oh you," Jody smirked. "So, how was work?"

"Oh you know, the usual," Leon summed.

They took to the dance floor and danced away. Leon half-noticed what he was doing, instead keeping firm eyes on Batgirl as he danced the best he could with the drink settling in his stomach. They danced together to the beat of a song from The Who, the lyrics blared over the large speakers on all corners of the club. "No one knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be faded, to telling only lies. But my dreams aren't as empty as my conscious seems to be."

Leon stopped for a minute; he felt his stomach seizing up. He left for the bathrooms; most of them were full to brim with people, some puking up their drinks. In a bid to save himself, Leon ducked into the employee's only bathroom where he found safety within an empty stall, puking up his guts.

Leon doubled over, heaving up the Blood Rum, some getting on the rim of the toilet. When the feeling in his stomach stopped, Leon glanced at the remnants of a twelve dollar drink. He cringed when he saw the aftermath on the toilet itself and after flushing down his drink, he set about cleaning up the mess he caused. It took a couple of turns to a soap dispenser and a few paper towels before the mess were gone, what he could get anyway.

With the mess cleaned up, Leon went to wash his hands and swish around some warm water, removing any of the Blood Rum left in his mouth. Leon spat out twice, wiped his hands on another sheet of paper towel and readied to head out of the employee's bathroom. He knew he'd get yelled at by the management but he had no choice, it was either on the dance floor or an empty bathroom.

Leon was about exit the bathroom when he suddenly grabbed the edge of the sink. He felt his world spinning around him and the pains in his stomach grew thrice, he felt his heart beat erratically and glancing at the mirrors didn't help either. Leon began to breathe hard as he tried to go near the door, but the pain was too much and his feet collapsed under him. Leon's fear rose to the highest it ever been. In his mind, he thought what was happening. Was he having a heart attack or an episode of some sort, no, he couldn't have been, he did drink but he did keep to a schedule like anyone else, was it something to do with mentally?

No, Leon went through all that before, his mind was a bit clumsy but not enough to be a problem in day to day life. Leon then thought about the drink, he must've indeed had an allergic reaction to the blood. Leon remembered, he never had anything with pig's blood in it before, ever, he liked his pork as much as anyone, but he harkened that he might've had a reaction.

Leon was stuck in the bathroom, heaving, his world slowly closing in on him. Over the speakers in the bathroom, he heard the song continue to play. "And if I swallow anything evil, put your fingers down my throat."

His attention broke to see someone entering the bathroom. As Leon tried to speak, his throat had seized up as well, preventing him speaking. Leon gurgled as he tried to steadily look at the person as they knelt down before him. When Leon tried to touch them, he felt a sharp pain on the side of his head and fell over on the tiled floor, his world fading to black.

Beta comes second…

_This is Subject Beta. He is the second model in the Alpha Series. I am required by law to tell you this. For whatever reason that is not currently known or for whatever nonsense that is, female Keepers cannot work with Subject Beta. Hal Corporation of Science and Technology does not condone sexism or any kind of harassment against its female staff members, we are an equal opportunity employment and thus we are not responsible for the quirk in Subject Beta. Legalities aside, Beta does not like women at all. Now I'm sure you're wondering why this one is having problems. To tell the truth, I don't know. It's a quirk that will be fixed in the next Series and for now, bear with us here. Subject Beta will attempt to harm female Keepers. Not fatally, but he will attempt to strangle, stab, the like. For the sake of us and the safety of the Keepers, only male Keepers are to be assigned to Beta. Supervisors are already aware of Beta's quirk and applications will be handled accordingly. If a supervisor attempts to assign a female Keeper to Beta regardless of the risks, please disregard his or her orders and report directly to Sofia. The supervisor will then be under quarantine and all that legal stuff. So keeping that in mind, Beta doesn't care to do much but follow commands and nothing more. Please know that no quirks alike if you're coming from another Subject as this may have an irreversible effect that may or may not cause problems._


	28. Gamma

Callan

Business was something Callan was rather good with. Ever since he was a lad, he had a knack for finances, to the point of even doing his parents' own taxes for them and even helping with claims and the like. Callan gone to one of the prestigious business schools of the United Kingdom and began work as a simple bean counter for a company.

Callan's knack didn't stop him from enjoying life; however, during his first few years with the company, he had met someone. She was a florist who delivered flowers and was employed quite a bit by other companies who were sending Callan's bosses flora and the like as gestures of good nature and of course business. Callan had accidentally bumped into her while she was delivering another set of flowers, this time for a woman in his department who had gotten married the month before.

The two talked and found that they liked each other's company enough to go on dates. After a dozen or so dates, they became an inseparable couple and after eight years of being together, Callan proposed to Sonya and she accepted. They later married at a nice quiet church with close family and friends and a year later, Ciri was born.

Unfortunately, Callan did not foresee what happened. While Ciri was born perfectly healthy, Sonya meanwhile did not stop bleeding. The doctors did everything in their power to stop the bleeding, but the bleeding continued anyway, thus rendering Sonya to her death bed and with one last intervention from the doctors she was given a peaceful death. Callan was fortunate for the attendants as he broke down and wept over his late wife.

His wife was buried the next month after and Callan raised Ciri by himself. To this day, Callan was crippled by nightmares of seeing his wife there, on the operating table, holding out her hand for Callan to grab. Callan wouldn't take her hand and Sonya withered away in his very eyes.

Forward to now, Ciri had just turned six and Callan was working as hard as can be as a single father.

"Dad, can we go trick or treating?" Ciri asked Callan as he was writing checks for the bills. Callan glanced up, "We don't have Halloween here."

A few weeks ago, Callan brought Ciri along for a business trip. She was watched by a nanny while Callan worked, but he kept her amused whenever he wasn't working by taking her sightseeing. Ciri never did get to experience Halloween firsthand and in Great Britain, Halloween wasn't particularly like the one overseas.

Ciri stared at him as she said, "We don't?"

"No, love, we don't have Halloween here. At least, not like the one in America," Callan explained. Ciri frowned, "Why don't we?"

"Just how it works," Callan summed. Ciri sighed and walked into the den, watching some telly while Callan finished up the bills. With all the checks written, Callan set the stack on top of the fridge for tomorrow's post. He heard the phone in the den ring and Ciri calling for him, he walked into the den as Ciri was sitting on the sofa. Callan picked up the phone and on the other line was a business partner of the company he worked for. "Um, hello, is this Callan McDowell?" he heard on the line. Callan replied, "This is he. How may I help you?"

"Ah, Mr. McDowell, I was hoping to speak with you about the merger deal. My company would like to know what the merge entails, if you don't mind," Connor explained. Callan pondered, there wasn't anything happening in the coming weeks, so then would be a perfect time to discuss a merge. "Of course, my work's been light, I can take a glance. Shall I see you the 16th?" Callan said. Connor in return said, "Oh, I was hoping to see you today, preferably. Courtney has a doctor's appointment coming up and I want work out of the way before then. We think it came back."

Connor was referring to his wife, Courtney; she battled cancer throughout her youth and just recently was given a clean bill of health. From Connor's tone that was short lived. Callan understood what he was asking and agreed. "Um, where do you want to meet?" Callan asked. Connor replied, "The usual, please."

The usual being a pub that most business men used to conduct, it was called Swan's and had everything anyone would want.

"Right, um, what time?" Callan continued. Connor answered, "How does eight, sound?"

"Eight? Sure, I can do eight," Callan wrote down the time and place on a notepad. "See you then."

He hung up the phone and Ciri eyed him. "Daddy, are you going to work?" she asked him.

Callan shook his head, "No, daddy just needs to talk things over."

"Sounds like work," Ciri pouted. Callan sighed, "I'm sorry, hun, but that's just how being adult is."

Callan went to the list of phone numbers and phoned Ciri's usual babysitter, however the babysitter had the flu and was unable to watch Ciri. She instead referred Callan to a friend of hers near the pub that could watch Ciri. The babysitter swore to Callan that her friend was as trustworthy as her and he shouldn't worry about her.

Callan sighed and glanced over to Ciri, "Sorry looks to be your babysitter isn't available, unfortunately for me I have to get somebody to watch you."

"Who's going to watch me?" Ciri inquired. Callan responded, "Terry's got a friend who will watch you. Best behaviors and if anything happens I'll be at the pub a block over."

"Okay," Ciri nodded.

A little before they left, Ciri grabbed a few things to past the time. When she came out of her room with her pink backpack, she followed Callan out into the taxi that was called for a half an hour ago. Ciri plumped herself on the left side while Callan slid onto the right seat. Upon closing the door, Callan fixed himself in his seat as Ciri clung to her backpack. "Daddy," she asked. "Can we go to the theater on Friday?"

Callan pondered. There was no work that day, believe it or not, most of it was just accounting. Callen nods, "Of course, what do you want to see?"

"I want to see the new play," Ciri replied. Callen tilted his head, "The one with Henson puppets?"

"Yeah!" Ciri nodded profusely. Callen crossed his arms, "You know it's quite scary."

"Daddy," Ciri pleaded. Callen sighed, "Alright, but only because you asked."

"Thank you, daddy," Ciri smiled. Callan took a quick look out the window, they should've been arriving to the flat of Terry's friend by now, but it looked like they had gone the wrong mate. Callan cleared his throat and told the cabby, "Sir, I think you took a wrong turn, this isn't Clementine."

The cabby didn't respond and Callan told him again. "Sir, you're not going the right way," he tried to say. He stopped when he swore he heard the locks on the passenger doors lock. Ciri glanced around the taxi, "Daddy?"

Callan didn't respond, the cabby stopped the taxi and turned around. He stabbed a syringe into Callan's chest and pumped strange liquid, by the time Callan had pulled himself off the needle, it was already too late. The world spun erratically around Callan as his vision blurred and slowly dimmed, faintly he heard Ciri cry out for him.

Gamma comes third…

_This is Subject Gamma. Now, I know what you're thinking. You think 'Alpha and Beta are hassles. What about Gamma?'_

_Gamma is more or less an Alpha that you want to keep a good eye on. Not to say he's dangerous—they're all dangerous in their own right. His quirk is something you take with precaution. Gamma's quirk involves him becoming dangerously attached to a child. Now, he will protect any child that comes into his vicinity, which is good. But, when a parent comes near the child and or scold its, he will react with violence. So! Hal Corporation of Science and Technology came up with a good trick to keep him preoccupied. We have instated an AI with the base model of a child. It has been programmed with an extensive map and knowledge of Utopia so wherever Gamma goes, it will follow. The AI will keep Gamma calm and so he will be more responsive to the control rod than when the AI wasn't online. However, there are risks. The risks that we found are that when the AI goes offline, Gamma will start to ignore commands and look around for the AI. Thankfully, the AI very seldom goes offline so nothing should happen. Keeping that in mind, Gamma will respond as long as the AI remains in constant view. Have a great day._


	29. Delta

Frank Colton

"Frank, are you sure you can't come for dinner?" he heard his mum ask over the mobile. Frank shook his head, "Mum, you know how much this work means to me."

"Doesn't mean you can't come home and have dinner with your family," his mum scorned him. Frank sighed and nodded, "Aye, you're right, but I promised. You always said to keep promises, as I remember."

"Please, don't overwork yourself," his mum cautioned him. Frank smiled, "I won't, mum."

The call ended and Frank rubbed his light blue eyes as he overlooked a stack of paper in front of him. Frank had been writing constantly since last night and he had already gotten past his writing block. He had been working on a crime novel for a little over a year. He was almost done but he felt like he was missing something. He thought his writing was rough, his writing was too loose with the grammar, sentences were too long, too descriptive, too whatever and Frank had been looking over the two-hundred pages he typed. Frank sighed and glanced at his typewriter, he had been working on another page until he had gotten a call from his mum. Frank overlooked the page and rubbed his chin, he thought it was good, but his mind was fettered with worry.

Frank took a deep breath and got up, went over to his wine cabinet that he stocked with no wine at all, but bottles of scotch. He grabbed a bottle and a glass, fetched two cubes of ice and had himself a drink, it helped collected his thoughts. Frank sipped on the scotch as he paced around his one room flat, overlooking the desk with the stack of pages and the typewriter, his mind called to order his story. Short and sweet, this was what the story was about:

A detective and his companion are searching for details to bring the downfall of a corrupt corporation that worked for the military. The corporation had been under investigation; supposedly the corporation had been illegally experimenting on people. The detective and his companion had been looking through public records and the like, until they indeed found the smoking gun. For the romantics, the detective's perspective is clouded when he finds that the woman he had been seeing worked for the corporation and she never told him. The woman pleaded the detective to not bring the information forward—the military needed those experiments for their weapons, yes there were people being experimented on but it was for good of the country and if the detective loved her as he did, he'd understand that and not reveal the information. The detective was torn between love and his honor and his companion ushered him to make the right decision. So, the detective, with a single tear in his eye, revealed everything and the corporation had gone under from the controversy and the military scrutinized. The woman was charged and jailed for accessory and the detective, heartbroken, continued on with his companion to solve another case.

As it stands Frank believed his book still needed work and with that, he set about correcting mistakes and the like. As he finished another page, his mobile lit up. On the other end it was his best friend, Alice Walker. "Hey Frank," Alice greeted. Frank smiled as he replied, "Hey Al, what can I do for you?"

"You said you needed some inspiration didn't ya?" Alice mentioned that Frank wanted to see some firsthand experience. Frank replied, "Yeah, I did, what about?"

"How about you come along with my patrol, I can help you with those parts about procedures," Alice offered. Frank pondered and agreed, "Alright, I can go for a tag-along."

The call ended and Frank got up from his desk. He readied and grabbed for his notepad and pens, he stuck his pens into his breast pocket and held his notepad as he exited the flat. Waiting for him was Alice as he had his hands crossed. "Are you ready for the tag-along, Frank?" Alice asked. Frank nodded, "Yep, ready as I can be, so where are we heading?"

"I heard some blokes are trying to smoke up at the back of the warehouse again. Why do these people make it easy for us to find them?" Alice sighed. Frank chuckled, "Well, better to be easy than hard."

"Ain't that the truth," Alice snorted.

Frank entered the passenger side of the cruiser and Alice got into the driver's side. Alice drove along Industrial Road toward Wash Warehouse, a warehouse in the market district where packaged goods are stored briefly before being shipped further down the country. It was also a place where people liked to go in the darkness of the night to partake in illegal drug activities. The drug trades weren't bad in Galahad but there were still cases of drugs being found here and there.

Frank wrote quick notes on his notepad as Alice drove the cruiser toward the back area of the warehouse. Frank quickly stuffed his notepad into his coat pocket and followed Alice out of the cruiser as he began to look around the area. "Now, remember Colton, stay behind me," Alice warned him. Frank chuckled, "Right, you're the officer after all."

"I try," Alice said modestly. Frank followed closely behind Alice as he patrolled the area with flashlight in hand. "So, how would you know if there had been drugs?" Frank asked. Alice flashed a spot near a rubbish bin as he replied, "Depends on the drugs and sometimes people say it smells different. In my opinion, opium smells like burning glue, marijuana smells like burning weed, the actual weed, and meth smells so bad it hurts my nose."

"I see and do the residual smells affect you in anyway?" Frank continued as he followed Alice toward an alley. Alice shrugged, "Contact high is kind of dependent on the guy, but if a room if filled to the brim with lit marijuana, I'd get a headache and become dizzy."

"Fascinating," Frank muttered as he quickly grabbed his notepad and wrote short notes. By the time he had finished, Alice was calling for him and he quickly rejoined Alice as he was looking through an opened rubbish bin. "Broken pipe, someone's been smoking," Alice pointed at the lightbulb with a small circle cut out on the glass and the bottom half of the screw broken off. Frank nodded, "What does this mean?"

"Means that someone's around," Alice shrugged.

Frank followed Alice as Alice went around the corner flashing light down by the loading docks. "Freeze!" Alice suddenly shouted as he bolted, leaving Frank scrambling to catch up to him. By the time Frank got to the loading docks, Alice was nowhere to be seen. Frank went around the area, cautiously looking for Alice while calling out his name. "Alice!" Frank coughed as he glanced around. It was quiet, Frank couldn't find Alice anywhere, and he was becoming increasingly worried.

Frank went down an alleyway and looked around, afraid of who else was with them. There hadn't been cases of brutality against the police as of late, but Frank remembered, he wasn't a policeman and that some people on drugs aren't exactly able to tell apart a writer from a policeman. Frank slowly moved down the alleyway, stopping when he felt there being a presence behind him.

Frank took a deep breath and turned around, no one was there and Frank touched his chest lightly. His heart was beating loudly as he looked down the empty alleyway. Frank decided that he would wait it out at the cruiser; if he had to he'd try to get some backup on the radio, or however the police do it.

As Frank slowly walked down the alleyway that was insufferably long, his heart kept beating profusely. There was no one else and it was getting to Frank. He wanted to run, nay he _wanted_ to run. He couldn't, it would be poor judgement on his part, after all Alice was somewhere and Frank couldn't find him.

Before Frank's two morality sprites came to a conclusion, there was a sound of the rubbish bin behind him spilling over. Without blinking, Frank ran furiously out of the alleyway and toward the exit. There was a pathway directly toward the back of the warehouse, if Frank could get to it, he'd be able to get to the cruiser.

Frank stumbled as he ran, he wanted to look behind but he was afraid to. His lungs started to hurt and he begun to wheeze as he tried to make his way toward his only salivation from this torment.

When Frank was running toward another alleyway, he felt his foot being caught on something and he felt himself flying through the air and coming to a complete stop on the filthy ground. Frank groaned as he slowly opened his eyes and glanced around. "Bloody hell," he hissed as he glanced at the cuts and bruises he sustained. Before Frank could even push himself up, a bright light blinded him. Frank cried out as he covered his face with his hands, "Oi, Alice it's me!"

"I know," he heard Alice. Frank yelped in pain as he felt the baton smack against his head and became stunned. Frank groggily tried to look up and saw looking down him, Alice, with baton in one hand and flashlight in another. "I'm sorry, mate," Alice said to him. "It's me job, you understand."

Delta comes forth…

_This is Subject Delta. Unlike the others, his quirk is unusual but easily managed. For some reason, he likes to play a certain song. What the song is or whatever it means, it's nothing. It's just a song that he likes to play and more on occasion he will get audio equipment to play it. Why Delta likes this particular song is beyond us, but since his quirk is manageable there shouldn't be any problems. When Delta wants to play the song, all you have to do is lead him to the specially marked audio equipment and he'll be a happy cybernetic war machine. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'I can't handle listening to that song all the damn time!' is a common thing amongst his Keepers. So! We have some earplugs for when the ad nausea kicks in. As for what happens when Delta is denied the ability to play the song, likely or not he'll throw you through a window. And if there aren't any windows he'll probably horrifically maim you. Don't worry, you have nothing to worry about! As long as you keep your disgust of that song to yourself and chew on gum, you'll make it through. Oh and I am to warn you that due to unspecified reasons, Delta cannot be around Warden-Commander Alice Walker. For whatever reason, Delta becomes hostile towards him. So, avoid Warden-Commander Walker when you can. Failure to do so will possibly result in death for Warden-Commander Walker as well as your termination. Have a great day. _


	30. Epsilon

Beth

Beth had battled her illness since her diagnosis during graduation from Oxford. It was a rare form of cancer, one that doctors didn't have statistics for. It caused Beth grief in all forms, she could not sleep without suffering from inflammation from the sheets rubbing against her skin, and even her clothes had to be specially made so she wouldn't suffer inflammation from them. Her joints ached and simple medication didn't work, causing her to be wheel bound for much of her days.

Beth accepted her fate. The doctors could only do so much for her and with her condition it was impossible determining the best course of treatments if there were even viable treatments for her cancer. Her family was appalled by her decision to no longer fight the cancer, believing she had gone mad.

In truth, Beth herself thought the same. However, seeing her once vibrant olive skin turn into a sickly white counterpart, her burgundy lengthy hair now turning gray, strings of hair beginning to fall out, and felt like dried straws despite her being just only thirty-seven, it was enough for her to assure herself. She did not want to live the rest of her days, with the same news over and over.

Beth had decided that in light with her decision, when the next treatments scheduled are completed, she'd move to the country and live out her final days. Her family had tried to overturn her decision, but the law said she had every right to decline further treatment. Her closest friends were trying to get her to reconsider, but she refused them. Even Daryl, the only person she ever fell in love with, wanted her to continue treatment. Regardless, Beth was set on her decision.

The final treatment was set to be conducted in a new facility. The head scientist, Sofia Lamb, was going to oversee the treatments. She had a team of specialists interested in the cancer cells that plagued Beth. Beth decided that if all fails, at least they would have cancer cells to study and to hopefully give the next inflicted soul a fighting chance.

On the day she was to be transported to the facility, Beth only packed a suitcase of clothes. Some books and a handful of crossword puzzles that would keep her mind off of the trip to the depths below the pacific. She combed her hair, made sure everything was cleaned up before there was a knock at the door. Upon opening it, there was a set of white clothed men, they bowed their heads and escorted her to the van parked in front of her flat. One held her suitcase while the other secured the wheelchair to the locks. Afterward, the one who held her suitcase returned it to her.

They drove her to the pier where a sub would take her to the facility. More white clothed men were waiting for her when she arrived. One wheeled her out of the van while another carried her suitcase.

The sub was large, enough to accommodate a party of ten or even more. The hatch opened and the attendant with Beth's suitcase entered first to secure the suitcase then returned to the docks.

Beth was wheeled gently aboard the specially equipped sub. The attendants made sure she was comfortable, that she had someone with her if she needed to use the onboard bathroom, before they secured her wheelchair into the locks. When the locks clicked, the attendants closed the hatch and the captain of the sub pressed buttons, pulled levers, before the sub slowly disappeared into the blue abyss.

The assistant who accompanied Beth tended to her, fetching her drinks, food, and if she needed it, help to the bathroom. The assistant, courteous, helped get things out of Beth's suitcase. She asked for one of her books and the assistant fetched it for her.

Beth read her book, finishing it before she asked for the assistant to return it to the suitcase. The assistant just that and Beth settled in her wheelchair, looking out the window of the sub. The seabed was dark, so dark Beth couldn't see even a rock poking out of the coarse sand. There were fish here and there but the moment the sub entered deeper parts, the fish became increasingly scarce to the point where Beth no longer saw any. Soon, Beth was greeted by only darkness. Darkness was all that Beth could see out of the window, even the lights on the sub itself couldn't show through.

Beth lightly shifted in her spot, trying to see what in the darkness. The assistant offered some insight. "They say we're prone to being afraid of the dark. We're not afraid of the dark, we're afraid of what's in the dark," she said. Beth tilted her head, "Well, what's in the dark for us to be afraid?"

"I don't know," the assistant gave a weary sigh. "Though, if we knew what was in the dark, we wouldn't have to be afraid."

"It has to be something for us to be afraid," Beth pointed. The assistant nodded. "True, but who is to know? They say sometimes it's better to be in the light, but I'd like to think it's also better for us to be in dark. Sometimes, it's better to hide in the dark than in the light," the assistant shrugged. Beth pondered before responding, "Suppose our fear of the Cybermen made us afraid of the dark?"

"Hm, I like to believe there was something that scared us long before the Cybermen came," the assistant pulled back strands of her blond hair. "Something that was worse than the Cybermen."

"What could have we been so afraid of then?" Beth questioned. The assistant shrugged, "Suppose we'll never know."

The captain came over the speaker, "Arriving to the Compound, I repeat, arriving to the Compound."

The assistant grabbed for Beth's suitcase as the sub slowly lowered itself to the large door. The door slowly opened before the sub, bubbles floating upward as the sub slowly made its way through the tunnel toward the Compound's pier, the door behind slowing closing tight. The sub's lights reflected off the metallic tunnel, allowing Beth to see the bottom of the tunnel. Corral had made home on the bottom, no fish that she seen but the corral thrived, in multitudes of colors. Some even glowed in the dark as the sub passed over them.

The sub continued until it slowly came to a stop and slowly ascended. Water pulled down from the top, covering the window, when the water finally stopped coming down, Beth was met with fluorescent advertisements that pierced the window.

When the sub docked, the hatch opened and a set of attendants entered the sub. One was handed the suitcase while the other helped unhook the wheelchair from the locks before they rolled Beth down the ramp. She was rolled into a spacious elevator as an attendant hit a button for the first floor.

The elevator hummed as it moved upwards. Beth saw her reflection on the bronze elevator door; she looked like a corpse wearing a yellow sundress. Her face was gaunt, her eyes were bloodshot, and everything about her was a far cry from the years before she was diagnosed with cancer.

When the elevator arrived, one attendant wheeled Beth out while another held her suitcase. As they stepped out of the elevator, there waiting for them was Sofia Lamb. Sofia Lamb's blue eyes lit up as she looked at Beth, "Welcome to the Compound, I'm sure you know who I am."

"Of course, hello Ms. Lamb," Beth greeted. Sofia chuckled, "Please, call me Sofia."

Beth was wheeled so she would be beside Sofia as they talked.

Sofia smiled, "How was your trip?"

"Oh it's fine," Beth said modestly. Sofia chuckled, "It takes time to get used to it."

"I understand," Beth nodded. Sofia blinked, "How are your joints?"

"Sore," Beth admitted. "I'm lucky to sleep at night."

"I'm sure these treatments will work," Sofia smiled warmly. Beth smiled too. "Thank you, Sofia," Beth said. Beth's eyes caught to a line of armored men huddled together marching down the hall opposite of them. They looked military and Beth swore she saw the armored men carrying something. Actually, they were carrying four things, Beth even swore seeing feet hanging above the waxed ground. The armored men disappeared and Beth's attention was turned toward Sofia as she was talking with some scientists.

As Beth watched, she felt something crawling on her leg. Slowly, pain began to rise through her body from the inflammation. "Attendant," Sofia cried urgently. The attendant in charge of the wheel chair came around and looked down at her leg. "Don't panic ma'am," Beth heard the man say. Beth flinched when she felt the skin of his fingers against her leg and something being plucked. The attendant shook his head, "It's just a beetle, ma'am. Don't worry; there have been problems of these things crawling around."

"Gentlemen, is there a problem?" Sofia appeared behind them. The attendant with the beetle showed her, "Beetle crawled on her leg, ma'am, she needs the medications for her inflammation."

"Damn beetles," Sofia cursed. She cleared her throat, "Ms. Ottoman, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Beth mustered. She was administrated some medication for her inflammation and the beetle was taken to be killed. Apparently they had taken residence in the Compound and exterminators haven't been able to get rid of them.

Beth was wheeled into another elevator, this time it was just her and Sofia. The attendants were sent off and Sofia had taken over. Beth settled in her seat as she glanced up to Sofia. "Will this work?" she asked. Sofia smiled at Beth, "I'm sure it will."

…. And then here comes Epsilon.

_And last but not certainly least; it's time to introduce Subject Epsilon. He's the easiest one to control. I'm sure by now you're weary because of the other four, but Epsilon is an exception. He won't lay a hand on you or anything like that. That's good, by the way. Anyway, he's actually non-violent. I know, it's crazy what with the others. But trust me; Epsilon won't be a trouble at all. In fact, his quirk is the easiest one to deal with. Epsilon loves flowers and music. Doesn't matter the flowers or the music, just give him whatever one you have and he'll be happy as a Dalek. Daleks are never happy by the way, I was just using that as an expression. Moving on Epsilon is one of the more popular Alphas we have here. In fact, there was a recent bidding war for the Keeper position. I guess after the last Keeper had an "accident" everyone wants to be with the one that's least threatening. Ehem, but anyway since you're the lucky one, you won't have any problems with Epsilon, at all. He won't even do anything even if the control rods fail. Not to imply that there's a chance that control rods fail. No, they won't fail at any point during your work. Trust me on this okay?_


	31. Chapter 24: The Crows of Lamb

SOMEWHERE IN THE DEPTHS OF THE PACIFIC, WHERE THE LIGHT COULD NEVER REACH FAR BELOW, HIDDEN AMONGST THE ROCKS AND SEAWEED, THERE WAS A LARGE DOME PLANTED FIRMLY ON THE BOTTOM OF THE SEABED.

It was hidden from plain sight; nothing could easily detect it at those depths alone. Within the dome was a large structure, built like a city, but with no intention of housing anything more than what was already inside the dome. There were no glistening signs on any corners of the structure, barely any light at all inside. Nothing short could see through the dome or the structure's windows.

The dome had been abandoned for decades, roughly forty. No one remembered it was even there or even existed, even what it was originally for. Records of it had been destroyed or heavily sanitized, those who remembered it were silenced one way or another, and it seemed like no one would truly know what truly happened inside the dome.

Of course, there was some scattered stories about what went on inside the dome, some simple, some dramatic, and some plum driven insanity. Of those stories, there were still grains of truth in them.

It was built sometime during the late '60s after the first string of Cybermen scare, which resulted in the local governments coming together to decide how to properly defend humanity against the Cybermen. The idea was that the Cybermen could not detect the dome or what was inside it, that they could not penetrate deep within the depths of the Pacific Ocean for the dome without being crushed.

The dome garnered a nickname that stuck through the years, the Compound, as it was home to the scientific experiments done by the Hal Corporation of Science and Technology.

Within the first year, the Compound had discovered new technology that could in theory advance humanity's fight against the like of the Cybermen and anything else that threatened. However, by that time, the Cybermen upgraded and the new technology the Compound had was ineffective against them. The Cybermen were upgrading at a pace that could never be humanly matched and it was at an alarming rate, too. In a state of panic, scientists, researchers, the like scattered to try to come up with new technology that could fell Cybermen regardless of their upgrades.

Progress was slow and agonizing; there had been neither new progress nor new technology, not even a scrap of research that was feasible. In a fit of fear, the Corporation fired the head scientist and searched for new blood, someone to take the reins further than anyone had done. While it searched, the Cybermen had upgraded to be ineffective against gold and had become even more terrifying in the conversion process that also changed per cycle.

Eventually, the Corporation found a new candidate: Sofia Lamb. She was fresh out of Oxford, good education, amongst other things, even bringing new ideas to the table. Some of the ideas would become questionable, such as Sofia found that the way Cybermen worked was that they had no qualms claiming humans to convert.

Of course, with the fickle nature that is humanity, no government official worth his salt would allow the conversion of humans. However, Sofia disregarded their outcries by reminding them that the soldiers of war had to be broken down and rebuilt to be successfully capable of handling combat and that this was no different.

There were still outcries, mostly about the sheer thought about people suffering during the conversion, but Sofia silenced them, by saying that it won't be the case.

It came to a head when she invented a thick syrup substance that when used, would allow the machines of the newly formed project, Project Alpha, to be controlled with ease. No computers could do what her substance did and it was promising, much better than what the Cybermen could've drummed up.

Sofia never did say what the extent of her conversion process would go or how it would even begin. No one could've known what she planned as she was a person who kept secrets close and enemies closer. Even the Corporation had no idea what Sofia had in mind.

One faithful Halloween, the project came to a head. The projected output was considered nonexistent, but Sofia went ahead and as the stories went, she was undeterred. No one was sure in the stories gathered, some claim she had several people taken at random as means to experiment on, while others had outlandish tales of Sofia equipping workers with technology and sending them into different universes. Whatever happened that Halloween, it was muddled to say the least.

One story proclaimed that Sofia did indeed have people taken from the streets, those that society wouldn't miss or those that no one would look for them in a massive search. The story continued with the implications with some details from other stories used, that Sofia implicitly had people taken from other universes, since if she had people continuously taken from this universe, there would be a great chance that she would be caught. As this story went, she had the people collected taken through an infamous procedure known to man, one that tops all of all inhuman procedures. The story dubbed this procedure as the Conversion and spoke in great detail about it.

It was a lengthy process, with horrifying steps and the like that would make most ill to their stomachs. There was a handbook that was produced that detailed every process in the Conversion, each step more gruesome than the last, and even the most hardened of people couldn't help but turn away at the sight. What was included in the handbook was also something of questionable ethics, a guide to selecting a person, a random person that no one would bother to look for, as the handbook detailed.

It was a long agonizing hours before the Conversion concluded. Out of the fifteen subjects that made it through the Conversion, only five survived. In a fashion that could be considered a cruel joke depending on who was asked, Sofia ordered the surviving subjects to be garbed as Italian plague doctors, bronze masks and all. These five subjects were named in ordinance of activation: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon. These five made up the Alpha Series and was promising with the sheer brutality they could inflict on any Cybermen or other.

Of course, that story was seen as child's play, nothing more. Then there was another story, titled, "The Red Letter Day"

It heavily borrowed from other stories and formulated its own version of the tale.

Unfortunately, Sofia had no idea what she had wrought with her Subject Alpha series. On the Red Letter Day, the Subjects begun to act frenzied, not obeying the Keepers, the Guards were no match, and Warden Ryan had been slain by Subject Alpha itself. The Alpha Series' left countless dead and several injured before they disappeared, never to be found or heard of again.

After the Red Letter Day, in a fit of rage and fear, the Corporation fired everyone who was still alive and shelved the project permanently. The Compound was abandoned shortly after the Corporation destroyed much of the work leftover from the disbandment and has remained in the darkness of the Pacific since.

In the present, Hal Corporation dissolved after it came to light what happened, though details were heavily wiped clean or otherwise destroyed. When asked about Sofia Lamb and several others' disappearance, the former chairmen refused to answer. On the whereabouts of the Compound, again, the former chairmen refused to disclose the location of the Compound or that if it even existed, leading countless to be jailed for war crimes.

At least one chairman gave some details about Sofia Lamb; in return, he'd get a lighter sentence. Sofia Lamb had taken her daughter, Emma, with her after the Corporation fired her and the others. Parliament didn't initially believe him, because it never found details about Sofia being pregnant or even married. The chairman explained that Sofia was estranged from her ex-husband and had broken off all contacts with him, hiding from him her pregnancy. She was only a few months pregnant when she disappeared.

Detectives were dispatched and confirmed the chairman's story. Sofia Lamb had been married at one point, to a popular politician no less. Their marriage never lasted more than a few years before Sofia joined the Corporation, divorcing literary the month before she departed. The fact she was pregnant at the time of her disappearance, only made the implications worse.

In the wake of the Corporation's trial, various tapes had been discovered. Pre-recordings of several members of the science team that once worked in the Compound. Amongst them was Sofia Lamb herself:

"_Hello and good evening. Today marks a very special day, the day that the Alpha Series has been a success. For those that worry about what these were, do remember that anyone would do anything for the sake of their fellow man. I have been told there had been concerns about morality amongst my team, I shall inform you same. Life is without meaning if no sacrifices made."_

Various recordings had been transcribed, but several others had been corrupted to an extent. All made by those who worked in the Compound at some point. Majority of recordings were never paired with a proper face and no one had been able to track down who made them. The content of these recordings varied, though majority seemed to be journal entries, announcements, and with occasional motivational recordings on Sofia's part.

Since, no one has ever had concrete clues as to what happened to Sofia and the rest of the scientists. This is where "The Red Letter Day" ended, with an ambiguous ending.

It became a sort of myth; the kind molded into science fiction novels and passed off as original. Stories of what might've happened were rampant, with twists and turns that are expected in a story. In fact, some people even wrote their own version of events into fanfictions between their favorite characters and the like online on websites dedicated to that sort of thing. The most popular adaption of the story was a well-known video game franchise, though due to the scarcity of details, names and like had to be changed and the franchise's story had to be changed in places to avoid controversy.

Movies and even television shows had even made arcs revolving around the story. The most popular of both have been both in the science fiction category. For movies, the more popular adaption had been adored and fawned upon by fans for close to twenty years, expecting a sequel sometime June or July of the next year. As for television series, a well-known TV series from Great Britain had made it as an arc episode with three parts during its early years when the case was fresh.

At this point, no one will ever really know the truth. The final member of the chairmen behind the Corporation had recently died of illness while serving his twenty-to-life sentencing in his homeland of America, even then he still refused to tell anyone what really happened in the Corporation or if the Compound ever existed. The former detectives who were originally put on the case had retired elsewhere and had no interest in digging it up ever again.

Whatever happened within the Compound, will never be truly known to the public. There would be no way for anyone to enter it now, the Corporation had since fused the doors and entryways shut, so no one in a sub or other could pass through the canals built to transport subs or the like to a holding area.

It didn't stop the Doctor from trying his hardest from looking, however.

A year ago, the Doctor and his cohorts encountered the late Plague Doctor. The Plague Doctor had been traversing between two different universes, one where the great detective Sherlock Holmes and his companion, John Watson, resided in, and another where UNIT was prominent.

The Plague Doctor spoke cryptically about the Corporation and Sofia Lamb, but was killed on orders handed down to UNIT before he said anything more. His remains had been cremated and the Doctor still seething over the death. The Doctor had been looking into the Corporation and what became of Sofia Lamb, rather obsessively. In a year, Clara had left for elsewhere, leaving the Doctor alone in his quest.

The Doctor had been scouring the different universes, looking for the fabled Compound that had been on his mind since he came across stories about it. Most of the time, he found only adaptions of the story, nothing more. Other time, no one knew what he was talking about.

It would be only weeks before the Doctor came across a cryptic letter, it took time for the TARDIS to transcribe but when it finished, the Doctor stared at it. It was a pleading letter, written from someone trapped in the Compound, begging for someone to break them out. Sofia Lamb had gone mad, the letter stated, and she rather everyone die than for anyone to escape the Compound.

Before the Doctor jumped on the chance to locate the Compound, he realized he did in fact need someone or two to help him. While he was the Doctor, he himself needed help here and there. So, the Doctor called Sherlock up on the mobile. Sherlock agreed and the Doctor asked about John. John had recently become a father and had taken a break from chasing crime with Sherlock to raise his newborn. It was just the Doctor and Sherlock this time.

Sherlock agreed to be picked up at his flat at a specific time. The Doctor then prepared for the journey ahead.

The Doctor gritted his teeth as he went around the TARDIS. He stomped his heavy feet as he went about, muttering under his breathe. In his mind, it was justified. The Doctor continued this, fuming at the top of his peppered hair as he went around claiming books and tossing them aside. Suffice to say, the Doctor was ready for the confrontation ahead.

He managed to stop himself once he saw the time. It was precisely noon and it meant that Sherlock would be expecting him. The Doctor cleared his throat and fixed up his bowtie. He ran a hand through his hair and lightly touched his brows before he walked toward the control panel and began to set the dials. The TARDIS would arrive in the den of the flat, in the center near the back wall, far from anyone's sight and then some.

Once the Doctor was done, he flicked the switch and the TARDIS began to hum lightly.


	32. Chapter 25

Morning at 221B Baker Street was usually normal. Sherlock would wake up from his bed, blink several times, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He'd get up and shuffle around his room, scrounging up clothing for the day while sorting things out in his mind. Believe it or not, Sherlock was never really a morning person. He'd get up in the morning if Lestrade requested his presence or there was a case on his website that he was interested in, but otherwise, Sherlock never cared for mornings at all. He bemoaned them in his youth and bemoaned them now as an adult. He never really understood mornings at all.

Truly, Sherlock would've never gotten up at all today. He'd already checked his website through his mobile while in bed, checked his texts, there was nothing for him to suffice on. However, he made an exception for this morning. His friend, the Doctor, had asked him to come along. The Doctor had found out where the Compound was located, it was deep within the Pacific Ocean somewhere in another universe, where Cybermen were commonplace and a daily threat.

The Doctor was sure they'd never encounter any, since the Cybermen had never considered the Pacific Ocean viable, allowing them to operate without fears of an altercation between them and one of the most terrifying things imaginable, in terms of uncanny valley.

Sherlock opened his eyes; they twitched as he rubbed them before his light blue eyes moved toward the alarm clock on his nightstand. It was only 10 AM, two hours before the Doctor was supposed to arrive at his flat. Sherlock forced himself up from his bed and continued to blink. He grimaced when light from the sun made contact with his face as he swatted the curtains back over the exposed parts.

He went about his room, grabbing his clothes. He'd decided on something light, since he suspected there'd be situations where his normal attire would cause issue. A simple pinstripe suit with faint lines, dark blue for base and a lighter blue for the stripes, a white cotton shirt tucked in and simple brown loafers. Sherlock went about, readying, he ran a hand through his hair, jiggling curls that clung together apart while yawning loudly.

By the time Sherlock got to the kitchen, it was only 10:30. Sherlock made himself a simple breakfast, or, he just grabbed whatever he had on hand and made do with what he made. Some tea biscuits slathered with some butter and a touch of honey, some dark coffee, and for good health, an apple.

When breakfast concluded, it'd just turned eleven, so Sherlock went about checking his website, his phone, and then some. He made sure that Lestrade, John, and who else that he bothered, wouldn't come around while he was gone. It was a simple plan, of course John already knew where Sherlock was going, but the others had no privy to that kind of information and Sherlock decided to lie: he gone up to Scotland, reasons for he kept vague. No one questioned it at all, they were used to him going off on his own, never coming around unless he was needed. And no one would ever dare to come looking for him in the flat, so that was a bonus.

Sherlock decided to tidy up the flat, removing books from the floor and stacking them properly on the table, collecting scraps of papers and tossing whatever ones he had no use for. He was told where the TARDIS might land so he pushed the furniture away as he could from where it would appear.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes, muttering to himself. He hated mornings. Hated mornings then, hated them now.

Sherlock checked the time once again; the Doctor would be arriving in roughly thirty minutes. To past the little time he had, Sherlock grabbed for his violin and began to play. He walked around as he played, stopping once or twice to keep track of time. Sherlock had been working on another tune, he wasn't quite done with it but it was almost done. It was a version of the peculiar song, "The London Crow". He was fine tuning it to be properly played on the violin; some parts were scratchy at best while others were a little flat. Sherlock intended to complete the tune, but work had been increasingly exhaustive weeks after his first encounter with the Doctor.

Sherlock stopped on a soft note when he heard a peculiar sound, the sound of metal rubbing against a hard surface. His light eyes fell on to the TARDIS slowly appearing in the center of the den. When it was corporal, Sherlock put away the violin and headed toward the TARDIS.

The TARDIS's door slowly opened and the Doctor poked his head out. "Sherlock," the Doctor greeted him. Sherlock nods, "Doctor."

"I didn't land on anything, did I?" the Doctor looked around. Sherlock shook his head. "No Doctor, you didn't," he replied. The Doctor sighed and nods. "Good, so, ready?" he blinks. Sherlock nodded. The Doctor allowed him inside the TARDIS.

"Have you had any luck figuring out who wrote the letter?" Sherlock asked the Doctor as he went around the control panel. The Doctor shook his head and replied, "No, I haven't been able to."

"Wonder what changed," Sherlock pondered. The Doctor rubbed his eyes, "Letter said that Sofia went mad, that she's threatening to detonate the Compound if anyone tried to stop her."

"She must've heard about him," Sherlock shook his head. The Doctor sighed, "Well, with what I've gathered, we'll see to Sofia getting her comeuppance."

The Doctor set the dials, pressed dozens of buttons, lowered and raised some switches, before he looked at Sherlock, "Ready?"

"As always," Sherlock nodded. The Doctor pulled on a lever and the TARDIS begun to shake as it slowly disappeared from the flat.


	33. Chapter 26

The TARDIS came to a screeching halt. The Doctor was the first one to poke his head out and looked around. The two were in a storage unit, a janitorial one. The Doctor stepped out and narrowed his eyes, the unit was dark and there was no way to turn on the lights. Sherlock appeared behind him and looked around as well. "These cleaning supplies are thirty years old," Sherlock pointed at a box of detergent. It was an old brand, a popular one too, that gone into bankruptcy in the late '90s. The Doctor blinked, "Must've stockpiled them."

They continued to bump around the unit searching for the light until the Doctor came across a switch. The moment he turned it on, a dim light appeared in the center. The unit was quite dated; there was even an old radio on the desk where the janitor must've sat at during his off period. Sherlock gone over to it and flipped the switch, the radio worked but didn't pick up on any stations, static was the only thing that was produced.

"Must be tied to those recordings," the Doctor blinked. He theorized that the Compound had its own sanctioned radio station where not only did people speak to the staff, but presumably played music. If the radio didn't pick up on the station, then it meant there was no one manning the radio equipment.

"Interesting," he heard Sherlock. He glanced over to see Sherlock picking up a tape recorder, one of the few original ones to be sold on consumer markets, there was even a tape still in it. Sherlock brought it toward the desk and played the recording, it was the janitor, Thomas:

"_Oi, it's going to be one of those days. They got me working longer hours, accidents happen a lot here. The money's good, but you know, I hate it here, not to say I should be thankful for the fact that I have a job, but because I'm stuck in the middle of the ocean where I can't get a beef steak with my own money. Hell, I can't even spend my own money! Sofia said that we'd have a commissary come by with surplus from the government, but it's been two months. God, I hate it down here, it's dark and depressing, I mean, Jesus how can anyone sleep in the dormitories with those… things walking around? I don't even understand why they even look like that! Guess I don't know what I'm talking about, then. Still, those things give me the willies and the scientists aren't people who are going to tell a simple janitor what's up with those things. I bet it was Seymour who said to give them those eyes. Ech, those eyes! They look so lifelike and it doesn't help that they don't move or blink at all. Ah, well, if they can kill a Cyberman, then what do I have to complain?_"

"I guess not everyone knew what was going on," Sherlock summed. The Doctor nodded, "Alright, come on, I think we're in the West Wing."

"What about the TARDIS?" Sherlock questioned. The Doctor sighed, "Don't worry, if worst comes to shove I can have it come to us."

The duo slowly exited the unit and glanced around. The hall was dark, there was no light source and it was so dark that the two found that they couldn't even see their own hands. The Doctor had a clever idea; with his Sonic Screwdriver he led Sherlock through the darkened halls. The halls were rounded, had a modern look to them, and above all else, it was quiet. There was not a sound as the two walked, other than their footsteps; it felt as if they were in a movie. The duo spotted a dim blue light in the yonder. Cautiously they walked toward it to find that this part of the hall had a large tube around it, allowing viewers to glance out into the Pacific. The Doctor and Sherlock took time to peer into the outside, there was no light in either window they seen, and the darkness of the outside was only adding to the fear. The Doctor's eyes darted from corner to corner, until he swore he seen something moving. His eyes moved until he spotted a sole shadow at the bottom, moving around. The darkness made it hard for him to discern, but there was someone down there, for what reason he had no ideas. Sherlock blinked, "Who's that?"

"I don't know," the Doctor shrugged. He stopped when he saw faint light coming from the shadow as it moved toward a corner, disappearing from their sight. "Right, come on, there's probably a map somewhere," the Doctor ushered Sherlock as they continued to walk the empty halls.

They came across dated posters. Several were for career advancement, benefits, anything really. There were even advertisements for spa trips in the East Wing. "Artificial sun," the Doctor told Sherlock. "Humans can't live without the sun. It's one of those ticks you lot have, that you go a bit stir crazy without the sun."

"How would they make an artificial sun?" Sherlock questioned. The Doctor shrugged, "Not particularly hard, though granted it took _years_ before having an artificial sun was viable. Replicating cells is easy, replicating sunlight isn't."

The large oval area with the elevators was particularly dark. Light that'd shine through the elevators was absent and the smell of salt water was prominent. The Doctor found a large map on the side of the wall from the hall they came out of. It was meant to be lit; dead florescent bulbs outlined the foggy glass. With his Sonic Screwdriver, the Doctor lit up the map; they were in the West Wing. It was a Wing where the janitorial staff resided as well as an area for a spa and a sick bay.

Sherlock glanced around the oval area, there were benches made of iron near the elevators, cold to the touch and looked to have been frequently used. The Doctor turned his head slightly, "The elevators are probably dead. Our best bet is the staircase."

While Sherlock made a copy of the map with a notepad he carried around, the Doctor downloaded a copy onto his Sonic Screwdriver. Regardless, they had two different ways of finding where to go.

Afterward, the duo began their way toward the staircase. It was wide, wider than some of the staircases that either two had seen. It was segmented with three sets of railings, allowing whoever once frequented to have a firm grasp. The red carpet that covered the stairs themselves was damp, smelt of mold, and another set of smells that neither the Doctor nor Sherlock could distinguish. It smelled metallic and sickly and as the Doctor shined his Sonic Screwdriver on the ground, there were darker patches on the stairs. The splotches varied in sizes while some went down the stairs to the bottom. It appeared that while the carpeting was cleaned at some point, it didn't get everything that was trapped.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked the Doctor as he glanced at the splotches, they looked to come from the top of the staircase, multiple sources from it stood. The Doctor shrugged, "Must've been cleaning fluid."

The duo continued to ascend the stairs until they reached the top of the staircase. They were in the West Plaza as the maps the duo had indicated. It was a large area, with several elevators and stairways to accommodate the areas. Benches lined the areas, old vending machines were on corners of the yellowed wall, the green light emitting from the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver lit up the neon signs, advertising beers and other goods from the stores in the East Wing.

Sherlock carefully stepped around the plaza, in his mind the plaza was lit up and filled to the brim with people. Some were janitorial staff members going to their respected elevators, people heading to the spa, and the doctors and their patients heading toward the sick bay. The Doctor pulled him away from his thought to show him a sign with a woman in her early to mid-twenties, blonde hair in a tight bun, blue eyes, pink lips; she was Sofia Lamb in her younger years. Under her were texts that indicated that her research team was looking for volunteers and the lab was in the South Wing.

"So we have to get to the South Wing, then," Sherlock summed as he glanced at the Doctor. The Doctor nodded, "Right, come on, we have a long day ahead."

They both stopped when they heard a faint growl. It came from the top of the staircase that would interlink with the Main Plaza. "Hide under the benches," the Doctor instructed Sherlock as he lowered his arm, releasing the button on the Sonic Screwdriver, entrapping them in darkness. Sherlock dove under the nearest bench he memorized as the Doctor hid under the one beside.

The faint growl slowly became loud and instead of it being a growl as the Doctor and Sherlock thought, it was a moan. A sickly light slowly brightened as something slowly came down the last of the step and every time it moved, it as if the ground was shaking. It looked to be a scuba diver with the large dome helmet, the light coming from within the helmet. A loud gurgling moan emitted from the helmet as the scuba diver moved around the area.

Sherlock witnessed that one of its hands was nothing more than a drill and the other was an exposed exoskeleton with the fingers twitching. He glanced at the Doctor who also looked at the scuba diver. Sherlock followed his eyes to see that there was a symbol imprinted on the chest of the scuba diver, Beta, the Greek alphabet letter.

The moan grew louder as the scuba diver moved around, as if looking for something. When it appeared it didn't find what it was looking for, it simply went toward the sick bay, its loud thunderous stomps boomed through the West Plaza as it disappeared down the flight of stairs.

When the coast was clear, the Doctor and Sherlock slid out from under the benches with looks on their faces. "Did you see the letter on its chest?" the Doctor asked Sherlock. Sherlock nodded as he ran a hand through his hair, "I did."

"I have a feeling that Sofia had been busy these last forty years," the Doctor said grimly as he turned his head to the staircase the scuba diver came down from. "Let's see where it came from."

The Doctor pressed the button on the Sonic Screwdriver again and he led Sherlock up the staircase. Sherlock cautiously kept looking back, expecting the scuba diver to suddenly appear; he soon stopped when they reached the thirtieth step.

The Main Plaza was large, larger than the West Plaza; it had carts in areas where people once bought food, cotton candy and even corn dogs here and there, the comforts of the surface at an arm's reach for those who worked in the Compound.

Sherlock glanced around and pointed at the staircase for the South Wing. The Doctor carefully walked toward it to find that it was barricaded off, with no way to access it, and when he checked the elevator, there was no power. "Can you power it with your Sonic Screwdriver?" Sherlock asked the Doctor as they stared at the elevator. The Doctor tilted his head as he looked at the elevator and shook his head. He replied, "I can't, there's a security measure. If I try it, there's going to be alarms setting off everywhere."

"So, it can detect any foreign interference," Sherlock summed. The Doctor nodded. Sherlock blinked and rubbed his chin, pondering. "If however, it detects a familiar interference," Sherlock trailed and the Doctor finished. "We can get the elevator up and ready," the Doctor turned around.

"We'll have to go to the North Wing," Sherlock glanced at the map he drew. The Doctor nodded, "Right. Keep your eyes peeled for anything."

As they neared the staircase for the North Wing, they noticed graffiti drawn on the walls. The graffiti was old as the Doctor noted and it looked to be a warning.

**Hide in the dark!**

**They can't find you if you hide in the dark!**

"Who could've it been?" Sherlock wondered as he looked at the graffiti. The Doctor studied it and shrugged. It was made with spray paint, the color since faded but looked like it might've been blue at one point. Sherlock then said, "Looks like there's more than one of those things."

"Then we'll have to watch our steps," the Doctor began to walk down the staircase with Sherlock following behind.


	34. Chapter 27

The Doctor and Sherlock entered the North Wing. One set of stairs led to the maintenance, another led to an area called the Lockup, and one other led to the storage area. Sherlock tilted his head, "What's in the Lockup?"

"Don't know," the Doctor shrugged as he looked around. Sherlock crossed his arms, "Suppose we split up and meet back here, then? I'm plenty curious about this place."

"Are you out of your mind?" the Doctor eyed him. "It's not safe here."

Sherlock showed him the gun he carried, hidden in the back under his jacket. "I come prepared," Sherlock told him as he wielded it, it was a simple standard issue Glock commonly used in police work of all walks that Sherlock had procured from his previous endeavors. The Doctor eyed it and nodded, "You sure you want to go hopping around without me in the dark?"

"I'm sure I can find a flashlight in the Lockup," Sherlock said modestly. The Doctor tilted his head, "You didn't bring a flashlight with you?"

"I never said I'm _always_ prepared," he heard Sherlock as he slowly descended the stairs toward the Lockup, his loafers faintly clacking in the distant until the Doctor scarce heard them.

Sherlock carefully reached the end and scanned the area. There was no light that he saw and Sherlock made do with carefully waddling through the darkness. He kept a hand on the wall as he used the other to sweep, ensuring he didn't bump into anything or anyone. Sherlock stopped when he felt a door knob and rattled it. It was unlocked and Sherlock took no time entering, inside was an office of some sort. To Sherlock's luck, there was a stack of flashlights and emergency products near a closest, he grabbed for one and found that to turn it on he had to squeeze the handle until he heard a click. The light came on and lit up the office, revealing to be a small office meant for one person's use, no one else's. Sherlock slowly moved the flashlight until he caught the glimpse of a weapon's locker, it was emptied, not even an unspent bullet was left. When Sherlock slowly moved the flashlight away from the weapon's locker, he found another locker. It looked out of place compared to the weapon's locker. It couldn't be the locker where the radios were, they were in a box near the desk.

As Sherlock neared the locker, he glanced to the bottom to find a box behind the locker doors. The locker doors opened without hesitation and Sherlock dragged the box toward the desk. The tape was yellowed, the box was dated, and when Sherlock opened it, there were cassettes and a cassette player neatly stacked in the box, untouched. Curious, Sherlock pulled out the cassette player to find it had a cassette already inside and all he would have to do is to push play.

Setting the cassette player down, Sherlock carefully adjusted the volume before he hit play. It was an instructional cassette, the narrator being a man in his late thirties and clearly was speaking off the top of his head as well as reading off a paper. He sounded quite nervous at the beginning before he seemingly calmed down and began to explain a job with the title "Keeper". Sherlock allowed the first tape to play as he went through the others that were in the box.

"_Hello… uh… hello…! Today's your first day as a Keeper. I know it's got to be nerve-wracking to control a Subject for the first time. I just want to tell you that everything will go swimmingly well as long as you follow my directions. Uh, as part of my legal discretion I just want to tell you that the Hal Corporation of Science and Technology is not responsible for any horrific maiming, bodily injuries, or just anything that can and will go wrong. Yeah, they don't tell you this stuff when you first join, it's case by case. I don't mean that you will be injured on the job; I'm just saying that you have no legal standing if anything happens, but anyway now that you're here we can continue. Now, your control rod is immune to most environmental scenarios, so if you accidentally drop in a fish tank or… toilet… it'll work just as it did when your supervisor gave it to you. Uh, though speaking on the behalf of the Hal Corporation of Science and Technology, please clean that control rod if you ever accidentally drop in a toilet. Seriously, don't be a dick, I'm not kidding either, don't. Anyway, I'm just going to tell you this: whatever you heard about these Subjects, the rumors, they're all wasp and you shouldn't worry. These things aren't human and if Dr. Lamb says they're not human, then they're not human. Seriously, she's the head honcho for a reason. So, keep that in mind. Uh, back on topic… um since these messages are pre-recorded, I don't actually know what Subject you were assigned to, so your supervisor will gladly give you the tape in correspondence to the Subject that you were assigned to. Anyway, I want to begin to tell you about the control rod. The control rod is specifically programmed to be used with your assigned Subject, your Subject will obey commands and generally follow your around as you use the control rod. However, just want to tell you that they have a whitelist of acceptable commands. So if you're trying to take over the world like the Cybermen, you can't. And you're an idiot for trying. Anyway, I gotta go but I'm sure everything will be just fine and on the off chance it doesn't, I'm sure you paid up your insurance before heading into work. Um, see you tomorrow!"_

Sherlock indeed found the cassettes of the Subjects that were referenced in the instructional cassette. They were labeled with the following: Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon, even having the symbols in correspondence to the Greek alphabet. As Sherlock looked at the cassettes, Side B of the instructional cassette began to play.

"_Hello… uh… hello…! See, you're a natural at this. Second day on the job, you're getting there buddy. I'm sure it's very weird seeing a big hulking Subject follow you around and do whatever commands you give it. You'll get used to it as the week goes on, I promise you. Now that you learned about how to use a control rod, I'm to inform you about the Subjects themselves. They're very expensive, government property, and can rip apart a Cyberman within three minutes, so keep that in mind. I just want to tell you that they're not going to break if they should fall down the stairs or whatever, but remember, they're reliant on you to give the commands. They can't walk around on their own or anything without your control rod, so if you're worried or just downright scared about the Subjects going on a rampage, please know that with a flip of a switch, the control rods won't work anymore and the Subjects can't move or do anything. Oh and also, as you learn you have to turn in your control rod after every shift. Legally, if you're caught with a control rod on your person long after your shift is over, I don't know the specifics, but you're going to be doing some time. These are government property as I aforementioned and theft counts as treason, so, do with that what you will. Not saying you're thief or anything, honest, I have to cover my bases as I go, so as long as you follow the rules and my tapes I'm sure nothing will happen to you. So, keep that in mind. Anyway, the Subjects will be placed in the lab for your next shift and then some. So after you turned in your control rod, your Subject will be led with the others with a specially made control rod afterward. Um, I gotta go, but don't worry, it'll be like walking a puppy, a very big, very scary, very expensive puppy. Anyway see you tomorrow, bye!"_

The control rods were nowhere in the office that Sherlock saw, which meant they were either destroyed or moved elsewhere. Sherlock glanced at the cassettes of the Subjects and found that they wouldn't work with the cassette player on the desk. They were smaller, compact, and looked to be in a design that wouldn't allow normal cassette players to play them, leading Sherlock to believe that these Keepers had their own person cassette players that they used.

Sherlock rubbed his chin as he pieced together the idea in his mind. The Keepers role was to guide the Subjects around and command them. It made sense, at least in Sherlock's mind, the Subjects role was to destroy Cybermen and keeping them in place was beneficial for the Keepers. He was curious as to why there was a need for a separate set of cassette tapes for each of the Subjects. With no other cassette player in sight, Sherlock wouldn't be able to learn.

With flashlight in hand, clues written down and filed in his mind, everything put up as they were before Sherlock found them to hide his trail, Sherlock exited the office and looked around the Lockup. The office he was in belonged to a Keeper Commander named Rufus, which led Sherlock to believe that was the voice he heard on the cassette tapes.

Sherlock edged his way toward a wall where there were advertisements for the Keeper positions. "Keep them in line!" was the tagline underneath the picture of a faceless set of men wearing what looked to be security uniforms.

"Peculiar," Sherlock muttered under his breath. He glanced at a door to the Guard Station as it read on a plaque beside the door and made his way over there. The door was locked unlike the other and Sherlock wasn't someone who was deterred by locked doors. With a few tricks up his sleeve, Sherlock began to pick the door.

He gathered that likely there were guards on duty to keep unsavory folk from causing problems or that there was a system of trust, presumably it had to been the former.

When the locks fell into place, the door slowly slid open and Sherlock was met was a large room. There were empty weapon's lockers that lined an entire wall; there were coat hangers with vests still on them. Sherlock went around the room, he found where the lavatories were for both sexes and found the segregated locker rooms. There was a room for the Lieutenant, he had a love of boats, and Sherlock found several ships in bottles of various types, with one of them being a ship used in the Armada. In the Lieutenant's desk there were applications, people were applying for the positions and the Lieutenant had been going through them daily. In another drawer, there was another set of applications, this time it was for something else. These applications were meant for something called Project Alpha, evident by the general penmanship. In these sets of applications, there were files of people, some ordinary and mundane and those of military or even political in nature. The files detailed everything about each person, from his or her likes and dislikes, to where he or she goes after work. Sherlock concluded that these files were surveillance logs, for why the Lieutenant and the Corporation wanted them he shuddered at the thought.

What else Sherlock found only made him cringe further. He was familiar with fake evidence, he dealt with it daily, from lies to forgeries, but these took the scones. There were separate files in additional to the surveillance logs, with detailed logs of the creation and usage of fake evidence in correspondence to each person. These fake evidences were used for reasons Sherlock was uncertain, but they were well made fake evidences that anyone could've mistaken them for the real thing. There were false evidences of drug abuse, fidelities, anything that could be used at a whim and Sherlock came across from. It was a fake application to marriage counseling, but this copy was apparently sanitized by the Corporation, blotting out names and the like.

At the bottom of the application were handwritten notes, presumably made by the Lieutenant.

* * *

31.10.76

Applicant Name: J. Hudson

Referrer: M. Hudson

I was told to refer here by [REDACTED]. I just want to get this out of the way, [REDACTED] is the best father our kids could ever hope for. So is Bill. I'm not proud what I did, but what was I supposed to do? [REDACTED] is nothing more than a goody-goody two shoe!

He's an excellent father and husband, but he's just too damn happy! He's dull! At least with Bill I had different spices that Mr. Bland couldn't have ever provided even if he tried!

I wanted to divorce [REDACTED] but I couldn't tell him upfront. Look, I communicated with my husband my needs and he skirts around what I wanted. I want a spice rack, not packaging peanuts!

Bill will be a good father to the kids, but I just can't think of any better ways of doing this.

P.S.: And if you see [REDACTED]. Tell him, I'm sorry.

* * *

22.12.76

Inquiry: Whereabouts of M. Hudson

There had been a murder that occurred in an apartment complex. A woman had been thrown out of her kitchen window and plummeted to her death. It was ruled as a homicide but no one could find the suspect. It was said that her ex-husband had gone missing two months ago and that he might've been involved, but reports indicate that police have been unable to find him, still. The woman's husband, Bill, was also killed. It appeared as if something grabbed him and crushed him as if he were nothing more than a toy. In both crime scenes, written in the victim's respected blood, was the message: **NO HARD FEELINGS**. The couple's children are expected to live with relatives for the remainder of the investigation.

* * *

The wife was killed, Sherlock read, and it was apparent that the idea was to make the husband the culprit. It was a perfect crime, if the husband disappeared after the death of his rival and cheating spouse, it meant that he was guilty and then some. However, why the Corporation wanted the husband in the first place, was something Sherlock didn't understand rightly, but given what happened the year before, Sherlock was willing to hedge a guess.


	35. Chapter 28

It was eerie to say the least, trapped in an underwater dome with no simple escape or means of protections, trapped in the darkness that taunted the Doctor and Sherlock. The Doctor was used to things that went bump in the night, things that bumped in the shadows with a voracious appetite, but usually any monster or other would've made a ruckus by now. This, this was far different than any adventure he went on. He actually dreaded what was bumping around in the dark halls of the Compound and what else was here that he and Sherlock were only lucky enough to avoid by pure luck.

The halls were empty as the Doctor went through them, they were used so often that there were sets of footprints still engraved in the carpet, phantom footsteps that seemingly disappear and reappear as the Doctor walked past them. The signs of various goods sold in the East Wing were withered from water seeping through the crevices of the cracks; the dated posters of the first war with the Cybermen were all but a reminder of a different time. Several important figures were in the posters, telling prospecting people to serve their country proud.

The main area was no better either. The once waxed floors was scratched up visibly, black substance permanently stuck to the once pristine bronze colored floors. The substance the Doctor assumed was greasing oil for the rotaries. The walls were steel in color, but rusted from water seeping from the ceiling, smelt of mold and decomposing plant matter. The Compound was left in despair and it showed through the thick oxidized lines of the walls.

The Doctor glanced around the maintenance area; there were areas that led further below the maintenance area for what the Doctor could safely assume to be for the sewage treatment and fresh water tanks. Another part of the maintenance was for ventilation and air conditioning. The areas continued to be separated by what they pertained to until the Doctor came across the one with the Main Circuit Breaker for the entirely of the Compound.

Upon entering, the Doctor was met with a large room with large equipment that took up almost all the space. There was a desk near the wall where the one in charge would've sat, there were boxes of various things such as wires and cables of various kinds that lined the unused wall space. The room overall was very crowded and must've been difficult to work in when the Compound was still in operation.

The Doctor carefully made his way through the jungle of wires that jutted out of places, cables that stuck out from their individual sockets, anything that would've given the Doctor a nasty wound if he fell. When he came to the back of the room, he spotted three rows of circuit breakers in front of him.

Prying open the protective cover of each of the breakers to reveal several dozen switches in each that were conveniently labeled, the Doctor mumbled as he read off the yellowed labels. There were switches for the lights, the elevators, the ventilation, emergency lights, anything that was electrical in nature, there was a switch for. However, as the Doctor looked, there was no switch of any kind for the South Wing.

Figuring he just might've overlooked them, there were literary almost a hundred switches or even more labeled, the Doctor went through the switches again, only to conclude after the umpteenth time there was no switch of any sort for the South Wing. Dumbfounded, the Doctor began to search around the area, hoping to find something that he could use.

Finding a book near the box of wires, the Doctor flipped through to find that it was a helpful guidebook for an electrician. Unfortunately, the Doctor was no electrician, but he assured himself everything would go right if he followed the guidebook to the letter. The South Wing was on its own power grid, which meant it had its own breaker and switches, the only way for him to get to it was through maintenance shafts, however the shafts were hidden from plain sight and as it read that nothing of the "engineered" could see the shafts in their programming. The maintenance shafts had their own individual key and the keys themselves were heavily guarded in the Lockup, hidden in a safe with rental scans that logged every use.

"Bloody hell," the Doctor muttered under his breath as he read through the book. He decided he would go for the maintenance shaft in the East Wing. The guidebook did a better job of telling him where the East Wing's maintenance shaft was than the time he was stuck in a situation that if it were made into a televised show, it would've taken three episodes or so.

The Doctor rubbed his eyes with his free hand, he decided to scan the entire East Wing as he and Sherlock went to find the maintenance shaft. Hopefully it would be easy to spot; there had to been grease spots on the corners with electricians going in and out of it. The idea was that he and Sherlock would go through plausible areas where a maintenance shaft might be.

The Doctor had the plan ready and he would start it off with flipping the switches for the East Wing. Before he could even flip the switch for the elevator, he heard shuffling footsteps behind him. Slowly, the Doctor turned his head, as the trope went, there was no one there. It wasn't Sherlock or the monstrosity they witnessed in the West Wing. The Doctor thought it was his nerves; it was so silent he heard his own heartbeat and so no doubt the silence would play tricks with his ears too. Turning back to the switches, the Doctor mumbled as he tried to find switches for the East Wing again.

As he was prepared to flip the first switch, for the elevator, the Doctor heard a noise behind him once again; something fell behind him and rolled to the heels of his loafers. The Doctor stopped and this time, he didn't turn his head around, instead he moved his eyes that glowed in the green light toward the desk. There was a shadow under the desk, small, and the Doctor couldn't see well unless he fully turned his head. The Doctor took a step back, carefully over the object, only to find that it was a pen.

The Doctor chewed on his lips as he tried to figure out the best way to confront whatever was hiding under the desk. He could be upfront about it, but seeing that thing in the West Wing was enough for him to rethink that, so the Doctor decided to be passive aggressive about it. "Oh dear," the Doctor feigned as he looked at the ground, checking under his heels and generally acted has if he was looking for something. "I saw a nasty roach! I _hate_ roaches, where is it? I hope it didn't crawl up my pant leg. Oh, I hope there aren't in the desk drawers."

Worked like a charm. The Doctor heard a stifled response and promptly turned around kneeled in front of the desk. "Oi, who are ya and why are ya bumping around here in the dark for?" the Doctor asked hoarsely. He saw a small figure slowly moving toward him. To his surprise, it was a little girl with platinum blond hair in a small ponytail and large dark eyes, wearing a light blue sundress and black dress shoes.

The Doctor tilted his head at the little girl as he asked, "What are you doing here, lass?"

"I got lost," the little girl whispered. The Doctor shook his head and asked, "Where's your mum, your da?"

"I don't know," the little girl replied. "I can't find my dad."

The Doctor nodded, "What's your name?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," the little girl mentioned as she peeked around the corner of the desk, as if looking out for something.

The Doctor blinked and nodded. He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. "Ya, you're right. But, I'm no stranger, lass."

"Then, who are you?" the little girl asked. The Doctor smiled, "I'm the Doctor. Now what's your name?"

The little girl shirked in her spot, "Celia."

"Celia, that's a lovely name," the Doctor commented. "Where was your da last?"

"He was supposed to take me to the theater," Celia replied. The Doctor remembered there being a theater in the East Wing. He then asked Celia, "What are you and your da doing here?"

"We live here," he heard Celia. The Doctor stared at her confusingly, "How did you get here?"

"They brought us here," Celia replied. The Doctor rubbed his chin, "What does your da do?"

"I don't know," Celia admitted.

The Doctor nods and held out his hand to Celia. "It's okay, you can trust me. I'm the Doctor. I'll find your da, swear on me heart," he said softly to her. Celia looked conflicted as she stared at the Doctor; it seemed that she accepted his offer and was about to reach for his hand when the Doctor heard the door to the room open.

It was Sherlock; he had finished investigating the Lockup and had found himself a flashlight, another one stuck in his pocket, and two walkie talkies clipped to his side. Sherlock stared at the Doctor confusingly and asked him, "Are you alright?"

"Ya, I'm alright, I was just talking to Celia," the Doctor answered. Sherlock continued to stare at him. "Celia?" Sherlock looked baffled as the Doctor turned his head fully to look at him. "Ya, her name's Celia. Celia, this is Sherlock," the Doctor points at Sherlock. Sherlock glanced around the room, the flashlight lighting up boxes and the like.

"Doctor, who are you talking to?" Sherlock asked him. The Doctor bluntly responded. "Celia," he said. He pointed the underside of the desk and Sherlock flashed light on it. The Doctor turned and Celia was no longer under the desk. The Doctor checked the underside, checked around the desk, got up and looked around.

"Celia," the Doctor called. Sherlock tilted his head, "Doctor?"

"She was here," the Doctor insisted. "I was talking to her."

"Calm down, mate, what'd she look like?" Sherlock gestured with his free hand. The Doctor chewed on his lips as he relayed. "She wore a blue sundress, black dress shoes. She had platinum blond hair and dark eyes. Sherlock, I was just talking to her!"

"I'm not saying anything, Doctor," Sherlock shook his head.

The Doctor chewed on his lips as he continued to look around for one last time. Celia was nowhere to be found, no matter how thorough the Doctor searched, he just couldn't find where she might've gone. Eventually the Doctor came to his senses and sighed. "I found the switches; the South End's got their own. There's a maintenance shaft somewhere in the East Wing we can use to get to the South Wing," he rubbed his chin. "What about you?"

"Where do I begin," Sherlock took a deep breathe. He found an underlying theme to how people were initially selected for something called Project Alpha. People were selected based on who spoke about them. There were divorce forms, forms for lawsuits, child custody, anything that would make it convenient for whoever was assigned to claim a person. The general idea was that no one would suspect anything more if a man disappeared after hearing that his wife was having an affair or a man was on the run from paying child support. Since there was an artificial motive, police wouldn't assume anything else was happening and everything worked out perfectly. The perfect crime as it stood.

"So, they don't kidnap people on major holidays?" the Doctor summed. Sherlock shook his head, "Only if whoever was assigned believe it's a good time."

The Doctor shook his head and took a deep breathe. Sherlock stepped beside him ad looked at him. "Doctor, are you okay?" he asked. The Doctor shrugged in response.

The two began to flip the switches for the East Wing, carefully going in the order as directed on the labels until all of East Wing was online.

With the final switch flipped, Sherlock handed the Doctor a walkie talkie. "We're on channel two," Sherlock explained to the Doctor as he stuck the walkie talkie onto the left side of his waist. Sticking his Sonic Screwdriver into his left pocket and relying on the flashlight for now, the Doctor nodded and summed, "Right. Channel two. Come on, we got the East Wing to search through."

"Doctor," Sherlock eyed him. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I am," the Doctor nodded. Sherlock was the first one to exit the room and as he disappeared into the main area the Doctor was left alone. The Doctor couldn't help but glance around the room one more time, thinking that Celia might've showed up elsewhere that he hadn't checked. To his displeasure, Celia was nowhere to be seen and the Doctor was the only one in the room. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, the Doctor tugged on his coat and headed out into the main area where Sherlock waited.


	36. Chapter 29

The East Wing was like walking through two Buckingham Palaces interconnected, without the walls, the stuffy furniture and general Victorian appearance. There were statues of various mythic figures, prominently of Greek gods and goddesses. The statues were painstakingly hand carved with some marks left from tools used and the statues were made of the most expensive material, the kind that most could never afford.

The benches that lined shopping centers were a mix between gold and bronze, an odd mix but the gold sheen coming from the dim lights made it seem that Midas himself had touched each of the benches and turned them into solid gold. The walls were burgundy in color with gold painted accents on borders and raised parts, hand painted by the strokes. It looked as if money was spent propping up the East Wing in it's entirely as a place of Rockefellers and those with steep pockets.

There were suites for those who were willing to spend thousands to have the best view of the seabed, undisturbed by the goings of the life, with everything they ever wanted at an arm's reach and a telephone call. Names of those who owned the suites were lost to the ages.

Food courts of all types served everything from carnival foods, made with the finest beer batter, to even beef of all kinds, the prices were as one would expect from foods that were made with the finest ingredients.

The clothes behind boutique shop windows were dated. They were made of the finest silks and cloths available, costing more than one would pay for clothes alone.

The flowers in the painted pots were engineered and because of their engineered nature, they were the only living things found in the entirely of the East Wing. And even the floors were made of quality material; there weren't even foot impressions or scuffles anywhere.

The East Plaza was spacious enough, it could've very well contain the entirely of London's population if the option was available and it alone gave the duo an unnerving feeling. The feeling that at one point, people of status once went about their days here, whatever reason that drew them here to this now decrepit palace was lost to time.

Despite its luxurious appearance, even the East Plaza couldn't escape the ire of time and apparent vandalism that happened to be marked on some of the walls.

Some of the words were faded with time, of different colors, though it appeared several were made with markers or whatever anyone had on hand. Words that weren't faded enough gave some instructions to other people.

* * *

**Alyx!**

**Get to the **_**Borealis**_** at Pier 17!**

**Take Lamar with you.**

**Go without me.**

**I'm sorry.**

**-Freeman**

* * *

**We are slaves.**

**We are slaves.**

**We are slaves.**

**We are slaves.**

**We are slaves.**

**We are…**

(_It continues for forty more lines_)

* * *

**Oh my God!**

**Someone**

**Anyone**

**The labs!**

**It got out!**

**IT ****GOT**** OUT**

**Z (…) IS OUT!**

* * *

SOMEONE

**PLEASE**

**SOMEONE**

**HELP ME**

**We R Dead!**

**God Save Us**

**GOD PLEASE SAVE US**

* * *

**Sofia Lamb!**

**You irresponsible INCONCEIVABLE IRRATIONAL DELUSIONAL SADISTIC WRETCHED C(…)!**

**You **_**did**_** this.**

**We trusted you.**

**You ****betrayed**** us.**

**Now we ****die**** because of ****you****!**

**May Hell be evermore!**

* * *

**STOP WRITING!**

**STOP W****RITING**** ALL OF YOU RIGHT NOW!**

**THEY CAN ****READ**** YOU IDIOTS!**

**THEY ****KNOW**** WHAT YOU'RE WRITTING**

**NOW THEY KNOW ****WHERE**** TO FIND YOU**

**YOU IDIOTS**

**YOU DAMNED US ALL!**

* * *

**Sonya,**

**I'M SORRY**

**I HAD TO ESCAPE THROUGH THE AIR VENT**

**PLEASE**

**HEAD TO THE SUITES**

**I'LL BE THERE**

**-K**

* * *

The words continued, some were dated erratically while others were made in haste. Something else happened here, something else besides the Plague Doctor and the others escaping. While the Plague Doctor mentioned that he and others that were with him went against Sofia and the scientists, it would've happened in the South Wing. There weren't any reasons for them being here in the East Wing.

"Must've been Sofia then," Sherlock stared at the graffiti that lined the walls. Some were neat while others were skewed as if someone wrote in an angle. Sherlock glanced at the Doctor as he read some of the graffiti that were too faded to be read properly. He asked, "Doctor, how can there be nothing about what went on here?"

"I don't know, I have been looking through all the universes that came to mind. Some were less than happy with me asking questions and some just didn't know what I was on about," the Doctor took a deep breathe before he exhaled. "I suppose that's one of the useful benefits for being buddies with government parties."

"Doctor, you don't suppose she killed them?" Sherlock looked at a graffiti that was written by someone in a hurry. The Doctor gritted his teeth, "I don't know. Until we get into the South Wing, anything is possible."

There were more graffiti, helpful tips to hide from the Beta Series. "Beta Series," Sherlock's mouth was gap as he came across it several times. The Doctor cringed, "Damn it."

"Is that what that thing was?" Sherlock remembered the scuba diver from the West Wing. The Doctor slowly nodded, "Aye that was probably one of them."

"Dear God," Sherlock cringed. "What are we going to do?"

"We need to find the maintenance shaft and get inside the South Wing," the Doctor looked at him. "It's the only way to get to the bottom of this."

"Right, I take one half and you take the other?" Sherlock glanced around the East Plaza. The Doctor glanced around as well and nodded. "Right, I'll go left and you go right. Come back here when you're done. Anything happens, radio me," the Doctor instructed.

They went their separate ways. The Doctor went left and Sherlock went right. The left side of the East Plaza was where the apartments and the boutiques were. The right side had the food court and the spa that was advertised in the West Wing.

To say the Doctor wasn't scared was to say a Dalek was spooked by the sight of a wee spider the size of a gnat crawling on around the tip top of its head. It just wasn't possible. Not possible at all.

Sherlock on the other hand was someone else entirely. He had his share of scares, from being drugged, knocked around like a boorish wrestler, flung off sides of buildings and the like, and the occasional poisonings that time to time crop up, but this was a case he never experienced before. To say Sherlock was never afraid of anything was to say Moriarity wouldn't shoot you over spilled tea; it was highly inconvenient and probably dangerous if going with the latter.

Two very different men, both detectives in their own right, both equally afraid of the long stretch of halls that seemingly go on forever, afraid that at the end of the halls was something waiting for them, something or another that would be their end and the Compound would be their tomb.

With the graffiti that covered majority of the walls, it made matters worse. These were people who were trapped in the Compound, where there was no way to escape it, alone, and under besiege by the Beta Series that stalked the halls. The Beta Series was supposed to be maintenance workers that did tasks that no human could ever do, but something went wrong and they became hostile toward everyone as the Alpha Series had done so before. The Beta Series attempted to drill holes into scientists, refused to acknowledge Keepers, everything about the Beta Series mirrored what felled the Alpha Series.

It made both the Doctor and Sherlock cringe at the sheer thought that more humans were turned into more of the Series.

* * *

**They watch you**

**They hear you**

**Circle you**

**Circle you**

**They come for you**

**Come for you!**

**Come for you to take**

**To the ones that take control**

* * *

The Doctor turned a corner of the graffiti toward the apartments. He glanced around corners, his hearts stopped when he thought he seen a shadow or two move at the edge of his eyes. The Doctor carefully walked as he kept glancing behind, in his mind he imagined scenarios where he glances back and there would be something there.

However, the Doctor prevailed and he managed to head toward the reception area. The reception area had automated services where luggage and the like were delivered from the ports below. All the chairs were plump and looked expensive as everything else in the reception area. There were four sets of large elevators, two for guests and two for the bellboys to carry luggage and anything else that the guests requested. Posters lined the wall, all dated, their watermarks indicated they came from the '70s at most and they were of Rockefellers arriving at the suites while flicking a coin in their fingers, giving a smile to the receptionist.

The Doctor edged near the reception desk where it once manned six receptionists at a time; behind the stools in a large cabinet there were keys that were neatly hung up, each with a ring on them with the suite number they went to. When he touched one of them, he found dust had caked it; it hadn't been used in years. Looking for the keys to the janitor's closest, the Doctor riffled through the receptionist desk, there was a set of keys needed to open the bottom drawer of the cabinet, likely where keys to some of the suites functions were.

He found old photos of friends of families that belong to the receptionists that once worked there, he found even a few love letters, those tame in today's standards, while some he simply stuffed back where they were found and quickly moved away.

It took a while but the Doctor was able to find the keys to the bottom drawer and unlocked it. There were almost ten sets of keys, each labeled by a different numbering system. Once again, it led the Doctor to riffle through the receptionist desk looking for a reference sheet. In his second search, the Doctor found old pill bottles with faded texts before he found unlabeled pill bottles filled to the brim with a very popular drug. It appeared the receptionists had a nasty habit while they worked in the suites, likely picked up as means for coping, as the Doctor found letters from loved ones, describing everything under the sun, literary, meaning that at least a handful of people who were in the Compound weren't happy being inside.

Lightly patting the drawers he pulled out, the Doctor found a stapled stack of yellowed sheets, stained with Tabaco and traces of the drugs in the bottles. The Doctor went through the list; there were references for the suite keys themselves and those that were used by staff. Eventually the Doctor found the sheets he needed and went through the keys in precise order. The key to the janitor's closest was F-21 and the Doctor snatched it from the foam that it rested on and stood up from the floor, rubbing his sore knees as he cautiously glimpsed around the area. He didn't know how many of the Beta Series there were, the graffiti wasn't helpful in that area, but he dreaded what might happen if he were to come face to face with one.

With the key in hand, the Doctor headed over to the elevator and pressed the button. It lit up and the Doctor stood beside the elevator. One could never be too careful, the Doctor learned. He heard the hum as the elevator slowly came down, a loud ding and the elevator door slide open.

He waited for a few minutes before he poked his head out to see the elevator wasn't occupied and he entered it. Following the reference sheet, the Doctor hit the third button and the elevator closed. The Doctor held his breathe as he felt the elevator slowly ascending. He closed his eyes briefly as he tried to remain calm and collective and almost jumped when he heard the elevator ding once again and the door opening.

One could say he was jumping out of the elevator, but the Doctor would laugh and claim he was merely getting out of the elevator before anything happened. Centuries of near deaths helped curtail some of the Doctor's behavior, not all, but enough that the Doctor wasn't going to stick his head out of an elevator.

The hall was empty and the stink of dust made the Doctor cringe. The lights were flickering erratically, the bulbs at the brink of burning out and as the Doctor walked, some of the bulbs were blown, leaving behind the connectors and the barbs intact.

There were plotted plants here and there, all engineered and all continued to bloom without a notice to the lack of presence. As the Doctor passed one, he flinched when the leaves brushed against his hand, almost sending his hearts to his throat.

The Doctor looked at the gold etches of numbers, he muttered as he moved down the hall. He figured it would be at the very end, alone, away from everyone else and as he edged near it, he heard humming.

The Doctor stopped and listened. Someone was humming in one of the rooms and the Doctor turned his head toward the source. It was Room 13. The Doctor stared at the key in his hand glanced at the door to Room 13, he chewed on his lips before he decided to take a chance.

Carefully, the Doctor stepped in front of Room 13 and stuffed the key to the janitor's closest into his pocket. With his hand, he knocked on the door. "Hello?" the Doctor called out. The humming continued. The Doctor knocked again and he listened as he heard something shuffling around inside the bourbon colored door. There were sounds of shuffling as he heard someone go to the other side of the door. The Doctor chewed on his lips as he mustered, "I'm the Doctor."

The door unlocked, the Doctor waited for it to be opened, but it never did and against himself, he opened it. Upon doing so, he found there was no one inside the suite. He found no trace of anyone being inside the suite recently or at all and the Doctor's blood slowly chilled as he tried to understand what was happening.

He heard humming. He _heard_ humming. The Doctor sat down on the bed as he glanced around the suite. It was barren aside from the furniture that hadn't been taken out. The Doctor shook his head and stood up from the bed, "Bloody hell what am I doing?"

He went toward the entrance of the suite, shaking his head. "There aren't any," he muttered under his breath as he exited back out into the hall. As the Doctor passed the suite, heading further down the hall, the humming started again.


	37. Chapter 30

Sherlock glanced around the food court; there was thick dust on the glass of the display cases, yellowing it to a sickly color. The tables were covered in thick tarp; the chairs were stacked near the walls. The lights were flickering rapidly, they were about to burn out at any moment. The menus had food that even Mycroft would turn green at the sight off—as he had to endure many meals with these same types of food verbatim to the point of induced nausea at the sight.

The only thing to break the deafening silence was Sherlock walking toward where the janitor closet was, hidden away from the ritzy food court.

Sherlock neared the threshold to the hidden hall where the closet was when he heard a hymn, "_You're a little teapot—short and stout. And when I find you—and I will—I'll toss you on the ground. Beg as you try as I laugh, you will tell me things I want to hear. And when you spout, then I will just cut you like a trout like the lout you really are. When I'm done, you will hear me say, "Oh, didn't you know?"._"

Hairs on the back of Sherlock's neck rose as he slowly turned toward where the hymn originated from. It was in the kitchen known for one of the "best" French cuisine and Sherlock chewed on his lips. True, he'd go inside the kitchen head on and confront whoever was there, but this was no time for reckless behavior—he was not home where he knew the risks and the consequences thereafter.

It sounded human, male, late thirties—early forties if that, the voice. It couldn't have been one of the Beta Series, they're apparently didn't talk, but given what little Sherlock and the Doctor knew that there was a lot they didn't know.

Sherlock was against himself, to either confront whoever was in the kitchen or continue to the janitor closet. In Sherlock's mind, it made the pros and cons into a tidy list and in the results: Sherlock would have to confront this individual either way.

With his hand gripped around the handle of his gun, Sherlock slowly edged toward the counter and ducked under. As he went behind the glass display, the sounds of pots and pans being tossed around started emitting from the kitchen, sounds of glass crashing and things being strewn around the cobbled floor. Sherlock carefully walked toward the doors of the kitchen, when a pot was thrown forcefully out of the kitchen, smacking against the glass, causing a chain reaction as the glass turned brittle and shattered completely. The pot was now stuck in the display counter as shards of glass layered on the ground, some at Sherlock's feet and several near the doors themselves.

Sherlock pulled the gun out and readied it as he ducked beside the wall as heard another hymn.

"_Little pigs, little pigs, I know you heard. The big bad wolf knows where you are. Run to the hills, take your pills, it'll be the same I promise you! That lout of a woman set about and turned us all mad! Trust us so; we're not that very bad. Indeed we had a bout of rage. But to be frank we were in a haze. It's been far too long, so long that we just forgot where we belong in a world that forgotten us, forgo us to the ages of time,_" echoed a voice from the kitchen.

Raising the gun, Sherlock took a deep breath and counted. When the numbers were getting smaller, toward one, Sherlock was in front of the doors. Upon hitting one, Sherlock stormed the kitchen, gun pointing at every angle, every corner, anywhere really.

"Who's there?" Sherlock cried aloud as he looked around. To his horror, there was no one there. Sherlock scanned the kitchen, pots and pans of every type were on the ground, bottles of wine shattered, glass everywhere, knives thrown all over, forks and spoons left in sinks. It was like a tornado had turned the kitchen upside down.

Confused, Sherlock checked everywhere that a person could hide. He checked the walk-in freezer, the walk-in pantries; no one was in the kitchen. When Sherlock looked on the ground, there was only a set of footprints in the spilled wine. These weren't his, he was careful when he walked over the mess left behind.

Glimpsing at the sole footsteps, Sherlock followed where they were going until they stopped at a drain in the middle of the floor. It was as if whoever they belonged to simply went down the drain.

Rubbing the back of his head, Sherlock was utterly confused. He never had this happen to him before. He almost knew instantly where a person went—it was his specialty—but he found that he couldn't figure it out now, a rarity.

Checking over the kitchen one more time, checking the undersides and everything else, there was no one in the kitchen besides him and Sherlock was left bewildered.

Sherlock chewed on his lips as he tried to understand it all. However, his conventional methods weren't working for this and he was left alone, forced to come up with new ways of dealing with this oddity. Suffice to say, it went well as one would think.

Agitated, Sherlock left the kitchen and walked under the counter, returning to the main area of the food court. Though, when he did, he stopped when he saw something unusual. The food court's tables were covered, the chairs were staked. Now, the tables were uncovered, revealing their detailed woodwork, and the chairs were neatly placed, two at every small table and four at every large table.

Sherlock tilted his head as he tried to make sense of it all. This was something he never experienced before, something that was in its own right.

As he walked around the food court, Sherlock was looking for the covers that were on the tables, he reasoned that they had to been tossed aside somewhere, or even near the tables they came from.

He didn't find the covers, but he found where the chairs were stacked, the wall they were near had something written on it.

**They watch you**

**They hear you**

**Circle you**

**Circle you**

**They come for you**

**Come for you!**

**Come for you to take**

**To the ones that take control**

Sherlock walked up to the wall and stared. This was the same exact thing written in the East Plaza. The words were written in red, smelt of the wine that was on the ground in the kitchen, and they were recent, recent enough that some of the words were dripping over each other.

Reading it over and over, Sherlock's blue eyes stopped when it finally struck him. This was seemingly a warning—to him. How would one deduce such thing was easy, Sherlock merely took it into context, so far he and the Doctor only encountered one of the Betas. They never found anyone else here.

It wouldn't be a stretch to say that someone… or something was watching them, listening in on their private conversations. However, Sherlock was looking at the bottom sentence. Come for [him] to take to the ones that take control. He assumed that it meant Sofia, that whoever was stalking them was going to take him and the Doctor to her.

Sherlock's concentration was broken when he heard shuffling noises behind him. Immediately turning around with gun raised, Sherlock stared; some of the chairs were pushed aside, as if someone bumped into them. His eyes scanned the room and stopped when he noticed that the doors to the kitchen were swinging wildly, someone ran out of the kitchen, bumped into the chairs, and disappeared once again.

Sherlock walked over to where the chairs were moved, looking at them. Some smelt of cologne, not the strong kind that made Sherlock nauseas, but it smelt earthy, something that Sherlock might've worn on a certain day. It was fresh, too.

Going more and more agitated, Sherlock spun around the room, attempting to visualize the events in his mind.

Someone was in the kitchen, throwing things around. The moment Sherlock bursts in, the person hid cleverly enough that Sherlock couldn't find him. When Sherlock left the kitchen and walked up to the graffiti, the person ran out, bumped into the chairs, getting cologne on some of them, and snuck around him up the stairs toward the East Plaza.

When Sherlock stopped spinning, having had enough, he was left with a bewildered look on his face. Where the graffiti was, another had taken its place.

**Who surrounds you everywhere?**

Sherlock cringed. He swore. Nay he knew. That just before he spun around that there was something else entirely on the wall just before this graffiti. As he stared at it, he tried to understand what it was trying to say. There had to been a reason for it to be written. Why warn him?

Why would anyone… or anything warn him and the Doctor?

Sherlock tried to think of reasons. There was of course the woman who sent the letter pleading for help, but unless she fancied cologne over perfume, she wasn't the one who left him the graffiti.

Remembering, Sherlock looked up to the ceiling. There were black orbs that seemingly dot the entirely of the food court. These were cameras. Cameras!

When Sherlock and the Doctor were flipping the switches for the East Wing, they didn't come across the ones for the cameras. In fact, Sherlock would've remembered seeing something about the cameras.

The cameras were on their own power grid, just like the South Wing. Where the power grid for the cameras was, Sherlock wouldn't have a thought.

But now, Sherlock had another problem on his hand. Who was watching him and was it Sofia?

Sherlock looked at the cameras, since they were protected by the black covering, he couldn't tell if they were looking at him directly.

Chewing on his lips, Sherlock tried to think of what he should do. Right about now, John would've suggested something, but alas, John was at home, with his newborn, leaving Sherlock to having to decide on his own.

"What would I do?" Sherlock questioned. Pros and cons went through his mind as he tried to make a decision with the least amount of consequences.

Sherlock wasn't going to have the chance to decide what to do. In fact, he had another idea on hand.

Blood in his veins chilled, his heart started to beat, his eyes widened, before him was a Beta. On its large chest, was the Greek alphabet for Beta, and under it was the numeral for thirteen. Sherlock stared at it as it stared back, how it appeared before him without making a sound he didn't know.

Chewing on his lips, Sherlock noticed the pronounced drill where the right hand was supposed to be. Beta 13 let out a long moan at Sherlock, leaving Sherlock petrified.

He could run, Sherlock thought to himself. However, that would be stupid of him.

Sherlock didn't know this place well enough to know where everything was. Beta 13… it was programmed to know where everything was.

Left with no other alternatives that wouldn't end badly for Sherlock, he was forced to stare at Beta 13. What Beta 13 was going to do, Sherlock didn't know.

Sherlock was never known for being someone of religion, but even he himself couldn't help but utter, "Please God."

"Mr. Bubbles!" he heard a voice. It was a child's, a girl. Beta 13 turned its massive head and let out a low moan. "Tea time!" the voice said. Beta 13 seemingly turned its head toward Sherlock, contemplating something, before it turned around entirely and walked, the ground trembling.

Sherlock was left to watch as Beta 13 disappeared up the flight of stairs toward the East Plaza.

Placing a hand on his chest and supporting himself with a table, Sherlock attempted to calm himself. He felt adrenaline pump through his body, his heart racing, and his mind in frantic ramblings, but slowly Sherlock felt the rush subside.

Grabbing for the walkie talkie around his belt, Sherlock held down on the button as he talked.

"Doctor…?" Sherlock called. The Doctor came on moments after, "Sherlock?"

"Doctor, I saw… I saw a Beta," Sherlock chewed on his lips, attempting to keep his composure. "It's coming up to the East Plaza via the stairs."

"Damn," he heard the Doctor say. "Have you found the shaft?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head. "Doctor, they're watching us."

"Watching us?" the Doctor replied. Sherlock cleared his throat as he said, "Look at the ceilings. There are cameras all over. Have you seen anything for the cameras?"

"No, the guidebook never brought it up," he heard the Doctor. Sherlock clenched his teeth, "The cameras are on their own power grid."

"Damn it," the Doctor cursed. "I don't even know where to begin looking for the cameras."

"Doctor, one more thing," Sherlock was quick to say. "We're not the only ones here."

"I know," the Doctor said quietly. He then asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'll live," Sherlock coughed.

The Doctor replied, "Then we still have work to do."

Sherlock released the button on the walkie talkie and stuck it around his belt. He held a hand over his forehead as he stared at the ground for a minute. He tried to think of rational explanations, but all he could drum up was simply: this was a case that John could make books of, even franchise it, make movies off it.

Feeling that he could walk without running like a madman, Sherlock began his way toward the janitor closet, looking behind time to time. Every time he looked back, Sherlock's breath gets caught in his throat, and when there was nothing there, Sherlock exhaled.

The janitor closest was large, supporting the food court. However, Sherlock didn't find the maintenance shaft; there were no vents of any kind in the janitor closet.

There was a chance that the Beta would still be in the East Plaza, so Sherlock had no other choice but to continue searching the food court. With his luck, by the time he was done, the Beta would be gone or something would happen. Sherlock prayed for the former and a chance to breathe.


	38. Chapter 31

The Doctor searched the suites, looking for the maintenance shaft. He looked in the conventional places. Even the unconventional ones just to be sure. So far none of the suites or other rooms had it. Despite not finding the maintenance shaft, the Doctor did come across some audio logs and the like while he checked the suites. The audio logs weren't dated and it appeared that paper was a commodity. So audio logs were a cheaper way of writing down thoughts, and the logs varied. Some logs were about that day and some about someone's hopes and dreams.

One of them caught the Doctor's interest. It appeared to belong to a detective. This detective didn't name himself in the audio logs, no, that'd be ridiculous. The detective was investigating Hal Corporation of Science and Technology and had to pass himself off as a businessman from a budding enterprise to even gain entrance to Utopia. Utopia was the Compound's real name, not the Compound as the Doctor and Sherlock assumed. It wasn't just a science endeavor as the Doctor and Sherlock thought, no, it was a science experiment in its own right. What better way to test the threshold of humans living underwater than to make it like something out of a science fiction novel.

"_The first nights here were unbearable; I couldn't sleep even with the pills. There was no moon to look upon; instead I had to look upon the darkness. The spas were always full; too many people were getting deprived of the sun. It's not pretty looking at a line of sickly people, veiny skin and all, but apparently a trip to the spa was just what the doctor ordered. The food was as high end as they said it was, apparently they get their shipments in from Pier 13. I never expected to get some of the foods they had here, hell, I'm pretty sure that even topsiders can't get them. So far, it looks to be that Hal Corporation is really pushing hard for Utopia's, with the Cybermen on the topside, I'm sure everyone's going to be looking forward to seeing a giant squid outside their windows when the time comes and everyone has to evacuate the topside. Ah, I'm going to look into the rumors I have been hearing about, apparently, Hal Corporation is looking into some new technology for the battle against the Cybermen. I don't know what to say, really, the fact that we're being forced underwater or that people aren't willing to give up. Anyway, I better get off now; I have to get ready for dinner. Lobster with truffle oil and caviar, a feast only Poseidon would goad at._"

The Doctor searched the detective's suite and came across hidden papers, notes written down, several of which were indicating that there was something going on with the science departments. As the Doctor continued to find more pages, the pages themselves started to slowly turn into a horror novel.

"_Not safe here, I think they're catching on. More people are disappearing; no one's asking questions, don't know what to do. Can't use anymore paper, they're getting suspicious. Have to use audio logs for now on, must continue charade, and must continue for the good of humanity_."

The Doctor would find the audio logs that were talked about and the story played itself:

* * *

Jack was meeting one of the Corporation's officials in the busy East Plaza. It was apparent that the official wanted to speak to Jack about something, what about, he didn't know. Thoughts came into his mind that his cover had been blown, that something happened and now he had to abort the investigation. Everything under the dome, made Jack fret.

To his surprise, it wasn't about any of that.

Andrew came down from the elevator and stepped out; he scanned the East Plaza before he spotted Jack near a column.

He strolled up to Jack and shook his hand, smiling.

"Good evening," smiled Andrew. Jack smiled back, "Hello, sir."

"Now son, I heard you got some contacts up in Washington, that true?" Andrew inquired. Jack nodded, "I do, why?"

"I heard you had contacts in the military," Andrew responded. Jack quickly said, "Yes, I do, Sergeant Ulysses of the Marines, sir."

"I figured as much," Andrew snorted. Jack stared at him confusingly. "Sir…?" Jack blinked. Andrew chuckled, "Figured it was you he was talking about. Yeah, the Corporation was speaking with him over some contracts and he happened to mention you, not by name, but more or less, "the Irish prick that beat him at cards"."

"Oh," Jack chuckled. "Yeah, I had a better hand that night."

Andrew nodded, "Well, Sergeant Ulysses couldn't come down here for the tour because of some issues. There was an attempt at taking over the damn Eiffel Tower, believe it or not, the damn Cybermen are either too stupid or bored. Anyway, the Sergeant said that he'd like you to tour in his place."

Jack wasn't sure about how to react. This was an odd request, mostly because Sergeant Ulysses never brought up anything about having to tour Utopia. However, he had to continue this charade and he frowned. "But, I'm no contractor to the military. Wouldn't that get me into trouble?" Jack questioned.

Andrew shook his head, "Oh, don't worry. You've been cleared. As far as Sergeant Ulysses's concerned, he's just wants to make sure everything is up to code, nothing more."

"Oh," Jack nods. "I wouldn't know what is up to code or not, sir."

"Ah, I'll fill you in on the way down," Andrew smiled. Jack slowly nodded, "Of course, thank you Mr. Ryan."

"Ah, don't worry about it none, trust me, we all have to start somewhere, now would you kindly as to follow me?" Andrew gestured with his hand.

Jack was led by Andrew toward the elevator. They waited as a group exited, laughing and chattering, before they entered. Andrew hit the button on the panel and stood back as the door closed. "Now, I ought to warn you. Don't take it personal, but are you afraid of insects?" Andrew glimpsed at Jack as he had a hand on the gold railing. Jack shook his head and replied, "No, I'm not afraid of insects, why?"

"Ah, okay, good. Um, the Sergeant already knows about this so don't bother wasting time discussing it, but for some damn reason we're having some problems with infestations," Andrew explained.

Jack blinked, "Infestations?"

"Uh, yes, it's a bit odd. They're only in the South Wing, so you won't see them in the other wings. We think they got in through a shipment, anyway, don't worry, they're just beetles," Andrew elaborated.

Jack slowly nodded, "How could beetles survive down here?"

"Ah, they've been getting into the food a lot, don't worry, we're having them zapped soon," Andrew assured. "Well, we hope this time. It's not been well, we think it's an invasive species, we've tried countless pesticides and the like, and nothing works. Sergeant Ulysses doesn't like having to approve for extermination, so you understand how it is, right?"

"I understand," Jack nodded. He then asked, "What kind of beetles are they?"

"Hell if I know, I just kill the bastards when I see them," Andrew admits. "Ask Grissom, he might know."

"Um, who is Grissom, sir?" Jack tilted his head. Andrew nodded, "Gil Grissom, he's the biologist. He's not quite right in the head, if you catch my drift."

They exited the elevator, passing another group. Jack stood behind Andrew as he used a key to unlock the elevator for the South Wing. Andrew entered and Jack followed, as Jack entered the elevator door closed quickly. "It's a safety precaution, but don't worry, it won't completely close if it detects someone or something in between," Andrew assured Jack as he took his spot.

"I understand," Jack nodded. Andrew shrugged, "I don't see the point. No idiot worth his dime wants to come down here anyway."

"May I ask why, sir?" Jack sheepishly said. Andrew rubbed his bourbon colored eyes as he responded. "It's science, what's special about science?"

The elevator stopped and Andrew stepped out first. Armed men were looking at Jack until Andrew spoke. The men lowered their weapons and allowed the two through. Jack followed Andrew closely behind, glancing around the halls. They weren't as lavishly painted and primed as the walls in the East Wing and the lights overhead gave it a dim glow. Jack's hazel eyes feverishly looked around, he was looking for trouble. Trouble, was subjective enough, but even Jack fathomed.

"Alright, keep it steady!" Jack heard a voice. They turned a corner and were met with a sight. A man wielding a baton pointed at an imposing figure as it stiffly walked. Another man beside him was writing down notes on his notepad as he gave orders to the man wielding baton. "Okay, now ask it to stop," commanded the man with the notepad. The man with the baton nodded, "Stop!"

The imposing figure stopped. "Alright, you're getting the hang of it," the man with the notepad nodded. "But remember, timing is keen. These damn things don't have a sense of time."

"What about the Cybermen?" the man with the baton sheepishly asked. The man with the notepad chuckled, "Like they know their dates."

"Gentlemen," Andrew smiled at them. They turned to see him and Jack walking up. "Good morning, Warden," smiled the men. Andrew smiled back. "So, how goes the training?" Andrew inquired. The man with the notepad answered, "It's getting there, sir."

"It's weird, to say the least. But I am getting the hang of it," the man with the baton said meekly.

Andrew nodded, "Don't worry, none. You'll get used to it."

"Um, Jo said I should ask you this, sir. But, if you're too busy, I can wait," the man with the baton coughed.

Andrew smiled, "I'm not in a hurry, ask a way."

"Um, why are these things wearing plague doctor costumes?" the man with the baton said quickly.

"Well, that's a good question. Believe it or not, our dear Sofia Lamb wanted something to symbolize the Renaissance. With these Alpha Series, humanity has a fighting chance against the Cybermen. The plague doctor concept was sort of a callback to how they once doctored those that needed it," Andrew explained. The man with the baton nodded, "So, what about the Beta Series?"

"Assuming everything goes according to plan, the Beta Series will have the standard chassis," Andrew replied. He turned to Jack, "I dare say that this is your first introduction to the Alpha Series."

Jack glimpsed to the tall Subject that stood motionless. "What say you, Jack?" Andrew eyed him. Jack turned him and blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just looking," he coughed. Andrew nods. He said, "Suppose we can demo the control rod."

"Control rod?" Jack stared. Andrew had the man holding it give to Jack. Jack looked at it and tilted his head. "You can command the Alphas to do as you ask," Andrew explained. "Granted, there's a black and white list of commands, so don't get too crazy."

Jack nodded, "How does it work?"

"It's simple, you wield the control rod and you give commands, nothing to it," Andrew shrugged. The man with the notepad asked Andrew, "Are you sure he should be controlling it, sir?"

"Worry not, if Sofia has anything to say, she can say it to me," Andrew swatted. "Besides, nothing wrong with showing how it works."

"Right, sir," nodded the man with the notepad. Andrew turned his attention to Jack, "Go on, give it a command."

"What should I command it to do?" Jack sheepishly asked. Andrew shrugged, "Tell it to move toward you."

"Right," Jack slowly nodded. He stared at the Subject and cleared his throat. He wielded the control rod and said to the Subject, "Come to me."

The Subject turned its head, the hat it wore moved. It turned toward Jack and walked toward him. Jack's heart stopped as the Subject was in front of him. It was tall, taller than him. All Jack could see was its chest. On the chest was the Greek letter, Delta.

"Command it to lower its head," Jack heard Andrew say. Jack nodded and said to the Subject, "Lower your head to me."

He had to take a step back as the Subject lowered its head toward Jack. Jack stared at the bronze bird mask that covered the entirely of its face, but what caught his eyes more was the Subject's. The Subject's eyes were pure silver and they stared dead into Jack's eyes. Jack stared into the Subject's eyes and felt fear come over him.

Andrew came around the side and grabbed for the control rod and handed it to the man who had it last. The man commanded the Subject to return to its padlock while the other who had the notepad followed closely behind. Jack, shaken up, looked at Andrew. "Gave you quite a scare, did it?" Andrew laughed. Jack nodded. "Sir, the Cybermen don't have eyes," he pointed out. Andrew shrugged, "It's called Alpha Series for a reason, and there won't be eyes in the next Series."

Jack nodded. Andrew continued to lead him through the winding halls until they came across an odd man in one of the labs. He was staring at a dead insect on the table, while scratching at his beard. "Good morn, Grissom," Andrew greeted him. Grissom looked up, "Good morn, Ryan."

"So, how goes the identification process?" Andrew inquired. Grissom shook his head, "When was the last shipment?"

"Oh, two months I think," Andrew remembered. Grissom pointed, "Might be Asian. We need the Sergeant to approve the pesticides I recommended."

"I'll be sure to tell him when I see him," Andrew assured. Jack pointed at the insect on the table, "What is it?"

"It's a beetle. Actually, a carrion beetle," Grissom told him. Jack grimaced, "What's a carrion beetle doing down here?"

"We think a pregnant beetle got in a shipment of parts and made home here," Andrew summed. Grissom nodded, "Interesting enough they should be dead. Yet, they're thriving."

"Given the slobs using the workroom, I wouldn't doubt that they have a buffet to choose from," Andrew shrugged. Jack coughed as he asked, "Are they dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" Andrew turned to him. Grissom smiled and shook his head. "No, aside from the chance you might eat one of them in your sandwiches, these are perfectly harmless."

"He means that you won't have to worry about the beetles," Andrew assured Jack.

Andrew led Jack out of the lab. As Jack was led into another lab, he heard Andrew say, "By chance, do you have family?"

"Let's say my family hasn't been keen as of late, Mr. Ryan," Jack gave a look. In truth, he had an older brother, Fredrick. Fredrick worked as a clerk in New York while Jack was off playing detective. For now, Jack pretended he had no family that he liked. His entire family was portrayed as drunkards and those of illicit types. Jack was going for the underdog angle. He was someone who was spat upon for his family's mistakes. Yet, he rose above it all and founded a company.

Lately, Jack's been working in a narcotic angle as well. He hedged a correct guess that Utopia was well into the drugs trade. Rich and powerful people enjoyed their drugs in Utopia. Who would arrest them and more importantly who would know?

Doctors were on hand for when someone takes too much opium or cocaine. Very rarely, did anyone die from an overdose. But, given the nature Jack noticed about Utopia that might not been the case.

"I hear you. Got a brother in lockup somewhere, a real loony if you know what I mean," Andrew nodded. "As the saying goes: you can't pick which family you end up in. But you can pick which family you speak with."

He showed Jack the lab.

The lab was high end. Down to the stainless counters and the soft lights that lit up the lab. It was something one would see in a science fiction movie. Jack was led inside by Andrew as he pointed to the window. Jack slowly made his way toward the window and peered below. The lab overlooked what looked like a factory. There was a large assembly line that went through the area. In an area near it, there was a line of unused chassis. Near the chassis was red barrels, on them was the word "Amber".

Jack stared at the barrels. "What is it, "Amber"?" he asked.

Andrew smiled, "It's like your mother's milk. It gives life to everything here."

"Truly," Jack looked at him. Andrew nods. "Oh yes, this stuff is the reason our Alphas are here and now," he explained. Jack uneasily looked back at the barrels, "So you manufacture your Alphas down there?"

"Yep, straight to the point, no qualms no problems," Andrew waved his free hand. "Although the output is small, but rest assure, when everything is cleared up. We'll get those bastards."

"What is your output, if you don't mind me asking?" Jack asked him. Andrew replied, "Well, like all projects. There's always going to be trouble. Some may not work as intended. Some may not activate at all. Those do make it are far in between. Roughly, our output is lucky to reach past five."

"What is your projected output?" Jack continued. Andrew said, "When we get the kinks worked out, over ten thousand an hour."

"Ten thousand an hour," Jack mused. "I hear the Cybermen are doing it three times more."

"It's not about quantity, Jack. It's all about quality. Think about it, Cybermen are sending out forces containing roughly forty-thousand units. They think because of their upgrade cycles, that nothing can fell their units. But, if you look at the projected causalities we're currently sustaining, there are always problems. Upgrade cycles are useless if the end results aren't up to snuff, is what I am getting at," Andrew smiled brightly. "If our math is correct, it should since we had this look over several times. Our army doesn't need an upgrade cycle every point four seconds. It can sustain itself without needing to phone home for maintenance."

"So, if I understand you correctly, ours will best them in most cases," Jack summed. Andrew nodded. Jack crossed his arms, "What about the Cybermen, though? Couldn't they hack them and turn them against us?"

"With our army, they can't," Andrew shook his head. "It just can't happen."

"How do you know?" Jack asked. "If the Cybermen catch at least one of them, they could reverse engineer it."

"It's just not possible," Andrew frowned. "We have everything calculated down to the pennies. Trust me, Jack; there is nothing to worry about."

Jack chewed on his lips and asked Andrew, "Sir, how is that possible?"

"Science, my boy, science and a vision held by our very own Sofia Lamb," Andrew answered. He took his arm off Jack and stepped closer to the window. He peered below to the factory floor. "Believe me, my boy, this is our future," he simply said.

Someone entered the lab and they turned around. Sofia stood there with a glow on her face. Andrew smiled as he bowed his head at her, "Miss Lamb."

"Hello gentlemen, I see the tour is going well?" Sofia inquired. Andrew nodded, "It is ma'am."

"It's quite astonishing, ma'am," Jack managed to say. Sofia smiled, "Good, good. I hope isn't boring."

"No, no. It's fascinating," Jack mustered. Andrew nodded. Sofia crossed her arms as she talked to Andrew. "Mr. Ryan, I'm told that one of the trainees had an accident with one of the Alphas," she said to him. He nods. "Yeah, Byron didn't do his timing right and the Alpha punched him in the stomach," he said.

Sofia sighed. "Thankfully he is doing better at the clinic," she said.

"They don't call them Alphas for nothing," Andrew smiled. Sofia nods. Jack looked at Sofia. "Mr. Ryan was telling me about the Alphas," he said to her. Andrew nodded, "Quality over quantity."

"That is the truth," Sofia smiled. "We cannot risk our technology getting into their hands much less it damaging itself."

There was an alarm and people rushing past the door. A shadow appeared behind the glass and opened it. "Ma'am, we're having problems with Gamma!" a Keeper called to Sofia. Sofia looked at Andrew and Andrew nodded.

"Jack, it'd be best if you stay here," Andrew rushed with Sofia out of the lab.

Jack was left alone in the lab. He couldn't help but stare at the door as he saw shadows move past it. He heard orders being given by Andrew and the others shouting loudly.

Jack huddled near the corner of the lab as he heard crashing and other noises. He stared at the door of the lab, expecting something to burst through it. His heart was no better, it was beating loudly. All Jack could think about was how it might've panned out. In all those scenarios, he thought he was going to die.

He nearly jumped to the ceiling when he heard scuffling noises near him. Jack looked down to the floor near the tables where he noticed a shadow moving under one of them. Curious, he cautiously walked toward the table he saw it under and knelt down. "Hello?" Jack called. He met with two blue eyes looking at him. It was a child of maybe five or six years. She looked at him and he looked at her. "Hello," Jack greeted her. She didn't greet back. "What are you doing here?" he asked her. She finally responded. "I was scared," she replied. Jack nodded, "How long have you been under there?"

"Not long," she answered.

Jack blinked and asked her, "Where is your mother, your father?"

"My da is mad," the girl quietly replied. Jack frowned. "Your father is mad, what for?" he asked. She shook her head, "He doesn't like it here."

"What about your mother?" Jack continued. The little girl replied, "I don't have a mother."

Jack slowly nodded. "So, you're hiding out in the lab, then?" he summed. She nodded. Jack shook his head. "This isn't a place for a little girl like you. Come on, I'll watch you for a bit," Jack extended his hand out to her. She was hesitant. Jack smiled, "My name's Jack. What's yours?"

"I'm not supposed to tell people," the little girl frowned. Jack tilted his head at the odd instruction. "Why not…?" Jack blinked at her. She shrugged. Jack scratched his chin as he pondered. "Tell you what, I'll tell you something about me if you tell me your name," he offered. She seemed hesitant. Jack raised a hand up, "Gentleman's agreement."

"Okay," the little girl quietly said. Jack nods. He cleared his throat, "My middle name's Abel."

"Abel…?" the little girl tilted her head. Jack smiled, "Our mother was a religious sort. My brother's middle name is Caine."

"You have a brother?" the little girl stared at him. He nodded. "Fredrick, he's older than me by four years. He works in New York," he elaborated. "Now, what's your name?"

The little girl looked around the lab. It appeared she wanted to make sure it was just them in the room. Content, she told Jack her name. "My name's Celia," she finally said. Jack smiled, "Celia. What a wonderful name."

Celia looked at his hand and stared. Jack continued to smile. His green eyes glistened in the soft light. Celia slowly reached for his hand and almost grabbed it. She flinched and retracted her hand a little. "It's okay. I won't hurt you," Jack assured her. Celia slowly nodded. She then reached for his hand again.

Celia touched his hand and Jack felt the metal fillings in his teeth start to buzz. He lightly touched the side of his mouth as the buzzing continued. Celia stared at him and he stared at her. "I don't think it's safe to go outside just yet," Jack told her as he helped her crawl out from under the table. Celia shook her head, "He's doesn't like it here."

"Who doesn't, sweetie, is it your father?" Jack looked at her. Celia shook her head, "Callan."

"And who is Callan?" Jack asked her. She didn't say much. "He misses Ciri," she only said.

"Who is Ciri?" Jack gestured. Celia said nothing more after.

Jack nods. "It's okay, everything will be okay," he assured her. He held her hand as she walked around the lab. She pulled him around as he felt the buzzing sensation continued in his teeth. "Who is Callan, is he one of the scientists?" Jack asked her. Celia shook her head, "I can't say."

"Why not, sweetie…?" Jack stared at her confusingly. Celia shrugged, "They told me I can't tell anyone."

"Who…?" Jack gestured with his free hand. Celia looked around before she said, "Miss Lamb and the Bad Men."

"Bad Men," Jack tilted his head. Celia nodded. "They're bad," she whispered. "They hate us."

"Now why would you think such thing?" Jack shook his head at the notion. Celia frowned, "They brought them here."

"Sweetie, I think you're just getting a wee bit ahead of yourself," Jack reasoned. "It's okay. Nothing is going to happen."

His attention was broken when they heard crashing noises down the hall from the lab. Celia yelped and Jack forced her behind him. A large shadow passed by the door, gliding past. The lights started to flicker rapidly. Jack looked down to Celia and knelt down in front of her. "Celia, it's not safe here. I know we've just met, but you can't be alone. Come on, I'll keep an eye on you," he told her. She slowly nodded. Jack jumped when he heard gunshot noises down the hall where the shadow went. He wrapped his arms around Celia's waist and picked her up. "Ouch!" he cried as he felt the metal fillings pop out of their spots. Spitting them out, Jack feigned the pain. He looked at Celia and noticed the fear in her eyes. "It's okay to be scared, Celia," Jack told her. "There's no shame in being afraid," he comforted her.

The lights slowly dimmed and the gunshots continued. Jack chewed on his lips as he held Celia. His heart nearly stopped when he saw five shadows in front of the door. They were not Andrew or the others. Jack looked at the window that overlooked the factory floor and panicked. "Celia," he looked at her. She looked at him. "Hide your face this instant," he told her. She did as told. Jack went to the window and looked down. He could survive the fall and Celia would be okay.

Jack took a deep breath before he grabbed for the stool near the tables and threw it at the window. The force was enough for the window to shatter and Jack took no time in jumping down as the door to the lab was smashed into by a single fist.

Jack exhaled loudly as braced, Celia crying out. He opened his eyes and found he was mostly unharmed, though he wasn't going to walk straight for a while. "Celia, are you okay?" he looked at her. Celia's blue eyes had lines of tears, "Yes."

"It's okay," he assured her as he ran with her toward the large corridor. "I will protect you."

* * *

The Doctor glimpsed around the room that Jack had lived in. There were cologne bottles on the dresser, from brands that since gone out of business, rebranded, or bought out by other companies. In the closest, the Doctor found suits. They varied between shades of brown and blue, nevertheless they were untouched. It crossed the Doctor's mind that it hinted the worse, that Jack never left Utopia. It would explain why no one knows what happened, the key figure was already dead… or one of them.

The Doctor left Jack's suite and chewed on his lips. He didn't know what to think of it.

After concluding the suites didn't have the maintenance shaft, the Doctor planned to check the boutiques. It had to be somewhere, where is the tricky part. As the Doctor reached the first floor, he stepped out and headed back into the East Plaza. He stopped when he saw Celia standing there, this time holding a toy.

"Ceila!" the Doctor cried out. Celia turned to him and tilted her head, "Doctor?"

"Where have you been?" the Doctor scolded her, crossing his arms. Celia hid her face with the toy, "I'm sorry, I got scared."

"You shouldn't run around here alone, it's too dangerous," the Doctor scolded her. Celia blinked and asked an odd question, "Have you seen Jack?"

"Jack?" the Doctor stared at her. He tilted his head, "Is he your father?"

"He was supposed to be in the labs, he's been naughty," Celia said listless. The Doctor narrowed his eyes to Celia, "What do you mean naughty?"

"He contacted his brother," Celia replied. "It's against the rules."

The Doctor chewed on his lips, "Why is that against the rules?"

Celia lowered the toy from her face, "You're not supposed to talk to topsiders."

"That's a little much, don't you think?" the Doctor questioned. Celia shook her head, "Jack's been naughty. Fredrick's coming."

"Celia, I don't understand, what happened to Jack? What happened to the others?" the Doctor asked her. Celia shrugged, "I can't answer that."

The Doctor watched as she turned her head toward the stairs and elevator for the food court. "Mister Bubbles! Tea time!" she shouted.

It then crossed the Doctor's mind. He had seen this many times before, several times was he duped. But now, he was duped again. Celia was not a real child. She was a hologram. The Doctor confirmed this as he looked up to the ceiling, there were black orbs. Some were probably the cameras and the others were for Celia to manifest. Why would Utopia need Celia was something the Doctor had no answers for. He then watched as Celia ran off and the ground started to shake.

The Doctor took cover behind an elongated wall, he heard Sherlock on the walkie talkie.

"Doctor…?" Sherlock called. The Doctor grabbed for the walkie talkie and answered, "Sherlock?"

"Doctor, I saw… I saw a Beta," Sherlock replied. "It's coming up to the East Plaza via the stairs."

"Damn," the Doctor cursed as the tremors were strengthening. "Have you found the shaft?"

"No," he heard Sherlock. "Doctor, they're watching us."

"Watching us?" the Doctor replied. Sherlock elaborated, "Look at the ceilings. There are cameras all over. Have you seen anything for the cameras?"

"No, the guidebook never brought it up," the Doctor remembered. Sherlock then said, "The cameras are on their own power grid."

"Damn it," the Doctor cursed. "I don't even know where to begin looking for the cameras."

"Doctor, one more thing," Sherlock was quick to say. "We're not the only ones here."

"I know," the Doctor said quietly. He then asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'll live," Sherlock coughed.

The Doctor replied, "Then we still have work to do."

The walkie talkie went quiet. The Beta was in the East Plaza and moaned loudly. It turned its hulking head as it disappeared where Celia ran off.

The Doctor quietly said to himself, "What have we gotten ourselves into."


	39. Chapter 32

The Doctor and Sherlock regrouped after the Beta disappeared. The Doctor had a curious look on his face as Sherlock went toward him. "Doctor, they know we're here. Why haven't they come after us?" he questioned. The Doctor slowly turned his head to him. "I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "I honestly don't know."

"Something's going on, Doctor," Sherlock told him. "I heard someone in one of the kitchens."

"I heard someone too," the Doctor admitted. "I was looking in the suites and I heard a woman hum."

"I heard a man speaking a crude hymn," Sherlock told him. "Then, something else happened."

Sherlock told the Doctor how the graffiti changed without any explanation. How the chairs that were neatly stacked suddenly were at every table. "I don't understand, Doctor," Sherlock said. "I really don't."

"I don't either," the Doctor gritted his teeth. "If they're watching us, then it's moot point now. They know we're looking for the maintenance shaft. If we go to it now, they're going to ambush us."

"Doctor, what now?" Sherlock eyed him. The Doctor glanced up to the cameras above. "We bring them to us," the Doctor only said. He shouted at the top of his lungs from then on. "Sofia Lamb! We know you're watching us. You're listening to our every conversation, watching our steps as we walk. You're too scared to confront us directly that you send your Beta units to scare us!" he shouts. "Come and get us!"

Sherlock stared at him. The Doctor turned to him, "Why waste a chapter looking for something that's already been compromised?"

The elevator to the Main Plaza suddenly opened to the Doctor and Sherlock as the surrounding power of the East Plaza slowly turned off. The only thing that lit up was the elevator light. Looking at each other, the Doctor and Sherlock entered the elevator.

It closed and slowly ascended to the Main Plaza. Sherlock held a hand on the hilt of his gun while the Doctor held his Sonic Screwdriver.

"Looks like you got their attention," Sherlock glanced at the Doctor. The Doctor nodded, "I'm not going to run around anymore. It's now or never."

"Doctor, what are we going to do?" Sherlock questioned. "They know where your TARDIS is and no doubt Sofia is going to use it to her advantage."

"She can't get into it even if she tried," the Doctor scorned. The elevator's speakers suddenly turned on and a familiar song played.

* * *

_Lon-don Crow!_

_Lon-don Crow!_

_Memories that you never for-gotten,_

_You pray for freedom,_

_But alas!_

_The life you once had is over,_

_A fleeting kiss from your lover,_

_And now you're a rover who grovels in the midnight grove._

_You dream of sweet salvation,_

_But all you see is dreadful temptation._

_The only comfort you find is in lamentation._

_You roam the country side,_

_Where no one wanders outside,_

_In the midnight where the moon shines brightly,_

_Your eyes shine in the moonlight._

_You sail through the quiet breeze,_

_The cold doesn't make you freeze._

_Lon-don Crow!_

_Lon-don Crow!_

_What got you down?_

_You were a great man,_

_Now you wander aimlessly,_

_Living a life of hopeless dreams,_

_Dreaming of your old life,_

_With your sweet wife,_

_Now gone to the sailing wind,_

_As you remain on the cold brimstone,_

_Looking up to the moonlight,_

_Seeking a fleeting kiss from her, but it never comes._

_Lon-don Crow!_

_Lon-don Crow!_

_What got you down?_

_Pick yourself up! Life ain't through._

_Life has its days,_

_And Lord knows you had yours._

_But now it's not the time,_

_Time is short,_

_And son, you're not getting any younger._

_So find your salvation,_

_Ignore the temptations,_

_Break away from your lamentation._

_Your life ain't over,_

_Stop being a rover and come right over,_

_Home is where the heart is,_

_And your home is here with us._

_Tell us good ventures,_

_Tell us stories that take us on adventures,_

_Please Lon-don Crow, won't you stay with us?_

_Our home is small,_

_The hinges are rocking,_

_But home is where the heart is._

_Hardships are what life entails,_

_But please Mr. Lon-don Crow, stay with us and we'll work them through,_

_This is our home._

* * *

"The London Crow song?" they looked at each other.

The elevator door swung open and the two exited. The moment they exited, the elevator powered off. All the other elevators except the elevator for the South Wing were offline. There were blockades that prevented them from entering the other wings. It meant they were going to the South Wing one way or another.

The elevator door slid open as the Doctor and Sherlock neared the South Wing elevator. They looked at each other with looks on their faces. Against themselves, they entered the elevator. Upon doing so the elevator door swung shut and the elevator suddenly headed down.

"What are we going to do, Doctor?" Sherlock eyed him. The Doctor chewed on his lips, "I don't know."

"Doctor, we've seen what they can do," Sherlock reminded him. "Are you sure your Sonic Screwdriver is effective enough against them?"

"Is your gun any better?" the Doctor retorted. He stopped and shook his head. "I don't know Sherlock," he only whispered.


	40. Chapter 33

The elevator door opened and revealed the winding hall of the South Wing. Unlike the other wings, the South Wing was something else entirely. The walls were cold steel with a matte finish. The floors were dark grey with pronounced marks on them. Lights that lit up the hall had a soft glow to them as the Doctor and Sherlock exited the elevator. The moment they exited, the elevator powered off.

Sherlock held the gun in his hand as he scanned the area. The Doctor held up his Sonic Screwdriver as he also scanned the area. They were alone. It frustrated them both equally. They knew they weren't alone but whoever was here wasn't keen on introducing themselves in a timely fashion.

"My Sonic Screwdriver says if we keep to the right we can find Sofia's office," the Doctor turned to Sherlock. Sherlock nodded.

As they walked, the Doctor and Sherlock found the staircases. Like the top of the staircases in the Main Plaza, these were also blocked off.

Effectively, the two were stuck in the South Wing.

"No human can put up blockades this quick," Sherlock turned to the Doctor. The Doctor tilted his head, "Must've been the other bunch she got here."

They continued on. The halls progressively gotten bigger as they went through winding corridors, eventually finding the South Plaza where there was no glamor like the East Plaza, not as dark as the West Plaza, not even as cordial like the North Wing.

The South Wing wasn't built for anything short of science experiments. The walls reflected that with the steel and matte finish.

As they looked around, Sherlock stopped and knelt down. He got the Doctor's attention and showed him. "Doctor, these footprints are recent," Sherlock pointed at the footprints. They were large, steel toes, and looked to be from a man. They led toward where Sofia's office was located. The Doctor and Sherlock looked at each other.

"Theory, detective," the Doctor looked at him. Sherlock glanced at the footprints. "Not only are we not alone. We're not the only ones looking for Sofia," he heard Sherlock. The Doctor ran a hand through his greying hair and chewed on his lips. "No doubt Sofia had a list of enemies left and right," he reasoned.

Sherlock frowned, "But Doctor, how could anyone get here. There's no way through the conventional means and I doubt anyone has a TARDIS on hand."

"Suppose we'll get our answer, come on," the Doctor gestured to Sherlock. Sherlock slowly nodded and stood up.

The hall where Sofia's office was located in appeared to have suffered extensive damage. There were scorch marks on the walls and the like that were old. What caused them, neither knew.

There was one door that was different from the others. It wasn't like the cold steel doors that they had passed; instead it was a different color. The Doctor guessed that Sofia was someone who wanted to be distinguishing from the others. Sherlock agreed.

Upon reaching the door, it was found lock.

"So, how you want to do it?" Sherlock turned to the Doctor. The Doctor shrugged, "It's not made of wood. I can get it open."

The Doctor attempted to use his Sonic Screwdriver, but found it was for naught. No matter how he tried, the door would not budge. "Blood hell," the Doctor cursed. "This never happened before."

"Perhaps we can try my way?" Sherlock offered. The Doctor scoffed, "Of course. Go ahead, Mr. Detective."

Sherlock knelt near the door and using some pins he stuck in his hair he picked the door. It wasn't hard but it surprised Sherlock how the door could be so vulnerable to one thing but so to another. As Sherlock stood up to open the door, the Doctor turned his head toward the end of the hall.

"Doctor…?" Sherlock looked at him. The Doctor turned his head and blinked, "Right, sorry."

"Doctor, are you alright?" Sherlock stared. The Doctor shrugged, "I don't know."

They entered the office. It was furnished with French décor, down to the carpet. There were a few paintings here and there, from artists neither could rightly identify. There on the desk was a neat stack of papers. Forms for things such as equipment and the like, nothing in particular, but one paper was something the Doctor and Sherlock were interested in. It was a missing person's report for a Jack Greene. The Doctor confirmed it was the detective he had found details about in one of the suites. Apparent from the wordiness of the report, Sofia and the others figured out that Jack was a detective and planned to do to him as what happened to the others. Yet, the report wasn't filed. Odd, it either meant Sofia never had the time to file it or something happened and she couldn't.

Rummaging through her desk, Sherlock found pictures of a young child. She looked like a spitting image of her mother and on the back, there was a name: Emma. From what Sherlock managed to find, it was apparent that Emma was born in Utopia, evidence being the birth certificate. The father was never named but as Sherlock rummaged through the desk while the Doctor checked the bookshelves, he found love letters.

Peculiarly he noticed a pattern. In the letters, "would you kindly" was something that happened to appear quite frequently.

Sherlock's attention was pulled away when he found a recording device. It looked no different than an answering machine but looking at it, it appeared that Sofia was recording conversations. One of the microphone pins was missing; indicating Sofia never took hers off or lost it. Not that it mattered; the device had a button that would locate the missing pin.

The Doctor stood beside Sherlock and pointed, "It stopped recording."

"Must've run out of tape," Sherlock mused. The Doctor nodded. "So she was recording her conversations," he theorized.

"Not only that, given the nature of our search. I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't sending men to their death for what they said," Sherlock said grimly.

The Doctor agreed. He then pushed buttons on the device, allowing them to listen to the last few things that were recorded.

* * *

Jack looked around the room. He was strapped down to the table. He couldn't move an inch without whimpering in pan. In his mind he couldn't fathom what was happening. All he could think about was his brother. "Damn it," Jack wept. He inexplicably sent his brother to his inevitable death. He gave all the details about Utopia and now his brother was a marked man.

"Celia!" cried Jack. But Celia never came. She had been deactivated. Jack attempted to cry out again. He hoped that she would reactivate from his duress. His hope was for naught. She was never coming.

The door to the lab opened and Sofia stepped in. She stared down at Jack with a look on her face. "You have made us fools, Jack," she hissed. Jack screamed at her, "Look what you have done, Sofia!"

"I did it for our universe," Sofia screamed back. Jack struggled in his restraints as he talked. "Your universe, what about their universe?" he asked her. Sofia gave a cold stare, "Why would I care about someone else's universe?"

"Damn you!" Jack shouted.

Sofia went toward a locked cabinet where she unlocked it. She brought out a large jar that had silver liquid inside. However, the liquid was moving even when she wasn't moving the jar. Sofia sat it down near the table Jack was tied down on and turned to him.

Jack struggled as he continued to shout at her. "Are you doing it for the Cybermen or are you doing because you can?" he sneered. "Look what you have done! They'll come after you!"

"They won't touch me," Sofia scorned him. Jack scoffed, "And what happened to Warden Ryan?"

"What happened to him was unfortunate. He knew the risk," Sofia coldly said. Jack stared, "What are you going to tell her?"

Sofia eyed him. Jack smiled, "You're right. I'm one helluva detective. So much so, I know your private life like the back of my hand."

He yelped when Sofia inserted a knife in his left arm. Sofia leaned in to look into his eyes. "And who will believe you?" she asked him. "Your dear sweet brother, Fredrick, can't possibly believe you."

"What the hell are you on about?" Jack caught on. Sofia smiled. Jack stared at her, "What are you smiling about?"

"Your brother's employer was quite a charming man. Thankfully he didn't mind being shorthanded," Sofia only said. Jack realized, he was never talking to his brother at all. He was communicating with the enemy. "What did you do to my brother?" Jack shouted at her. He screamed when Sofia slowly pulled the knife down his arm from the elbow to the wrist. Blood slowly oozed out of the wound as Sofia pulled out the knife.

"The nanonites did not work as intended," Sofia only said. "But, I have a feeling the fourth time's the charm."

"Damn you all to hell!" Jack bellowed. "May God smite you and the Devil damn you!"

Sofia came around the side and did the same thing to his right arm. Jack screamed aloud, "Help me, someone help me!"

"No one's going to help you, Mr. Greene. No one will," Sofia only said. Jack's tears fell freely down his face as he wept.

Sofia rested the knife down on the table and picked up a syringe. She grabbed for the jar and stabbed the syringe through the specially made top and pulled out the silver liquid.

"It is a mix between Amber and another compound," Sofia explained to him. "The nanonites were preprogrammed beforehand to your recommended specifications."

"What the hell does that mean?" Jack yelled at her. Sofia smiled. "It means that my dear detective, these won't kill you as they did your brother," she only said. She stabbed the syringe through the wound of his right arm and injected the silver liquid.

At first, Jack didn't feel anything. When Sofia went around and injected the second round into his left arm, he began to feel it. He felt tiny armies moving through his body. Jack began to shake violently as he began to cry out for his brother. Sofia watched him as he yelled incoherently. The incisions on Jack's arms slowly healed as small waves moved underneath the surrounding skin.

Jack bellowed out in pain as he felt his nerves being pricked and severed. As he did, Sofia knelt near him.

"So much alike are we," she slowly said. Jack stammered, "When I see you, I see me."

Sofia smiled, "What is your name?"

"It's… It's… It's…" Jack sputtered. He couldn't remember his name. No, he had no name. He had a serial number, a model name. That's it, no actual name. "And where are you from?" Sofia continued.

Jack flinched. He couldn't remember that either. Everything about him was slowly disappearing from his mind. As Jack squirmed, he stared at the only reflective surface in the lab, the ceiling. The ceiling showed his face slowly morphing. His entire body was morphing into a metallic skeleton. Sofia continued to say, "So much alike are we."

"When I see you, I see me," Jack sputtered.

* * *

The Doctor stopped the tape for a minute while he and Sherlock tried to comprehend what happened. Sofia Lamb had eventually tracked down Jack and either killed him or turned him into one of the expanding catalogue of Subjects. At this point, he and Sherlock weren't planning to finish that section of the tape.

So, they skipped the entire section to the next and final section.

* * *

"Hello, Sofia, did you miss me?" Colton glanced at Sofia. She was tied onto an operating table, strung up to see Colton overlooking Emma who had been tied down to another operating table across from Sofia in clear view.

"Who are you?" Sofia demanded. Colton chuckled. "Don't you remember me?" he looked at her. Sofia stopped struggling for a minute to stare at him. She couldn't remember where she had seen him before. He was tall, thin, had peppered hair, fine lines on the face, and above all else he had… their eyes.

"Which one are you?" Sofia asked. Colton chuckled, "So you do recognize me."

"I asked, now respond!" Sofia hissed. Colton tilted his head, "Well, what one played that… rubbish tune a lot?"

"Delta," he heard her utter. He nodded before he stopped and pointed at himself, "In the flesh."

"How is this possible?" Sofia questioned. Colton chortled. "Answer me, damn it!" Sofia screamed. Colton rubbed his chin before he shrugged. "Anything's possible, you said it yourself," Colton yawned. Sofia grimaced.

"You thought you were smart, thought you could take what you wanted consequences be damned," Colton smiled. Sofia struggled to move, but the restraints pulled her down tightly. Colton shook his head. "Still the same I see, a pity, a pity you never learned from your mistakes. Oh, but that'd be too much," he said sarcastically. Sofia struggled to speak. "Stay away from her," she hissed. Colton glanced at Emma as her hazel eyes moved around the room. Colton shrugged, "I see no difference in her than a simple subject, and oh wouldn't you say my dear?"

He glanced to a Subject entering the lab, silver eyes on Sofia. Colton smiled warmly, "Sofia, you recall the only woman to survive the conversion, don't you?"

Sofia stopped. There was only one that survived the conversion process and she wasn't as keen as the other Subjects were, she was Subject Epsilon. "She'd make a good companion for Beth, if she's lives through it that is," Colton continued. Subject Epsilon looked down at Emma whose eyes widened, but her mouth gagged prevented her from even uttering a sound. "What do you want, I'll pay!" Sofia tried to bargain. Neither Colton nor Subject Epsilon was interested in her prospect. Colton chuckled. "You'll pay, Sofia, as you'll all pay," he sneered. Sofia cringed. "She's not involved in this," Sofia reasoned. Colton glanced to the Subject who glanced back. Colton chuckled in response. "Oh, but she is involved in this," Colton pointed. "You made her involved."

"I'd never!" Sofia balked. Colton nodded. "Oh, you did. Remember Gamma?" he asked her.

Subject Gamma, or formerly known as Callan McDowell. He had been picked up by a Guard in Stockholm. Alongside him he had a daughter with him, Ciri. They were both taken and brought to Utopia; the girl was kept in a room while the Conversion Process was done on her father. However, back then Sofia had no convictions to hold her back…

"She would've been Emma's age had she survived," Colton mentioned. Sofia's eyes widened. Colton tilted his head, "Retribution is a timeless thing, isn't it?"

"Please," Sofia begged. Colton cackled as he slammed his fist on the operating table, a loud thud. He did this a couple of times, stopped around the seventh time before he calmly walked over to Sofia and stared dead in her eyes. "Are you done?" he asked plainly, irritated. Sofia cried out, "Please don't turn my daughter into one!"

"Well, isn't this a funny thing, ain't it?" Colton glanced over to Subject Epsilon. "She's begging, crying, all that jazz. What does that remind me of?"

He grabbed Sofia's head on both sides and compressed his hands around it, "We didn't want to be turned into one either, and you certainly didn't take to being human then."

Colton had a look on his face. It struck fear into Sofia's heart as he chuckled. "Oh, but you mentioned that it was for the good. The good of man that we… subjects could serve and protect against the Cybermen. We weren't fools then, certainly not now," Colton smirked. "See, the difference between us and them, my dear is quite simple. Cybermen taketh and delete, you taketh and only convert, see what I mean?"

"You remember," Sofia struggled as she tried to move her head. Colton's hands pushed against both sides of her head, keeping her head straight, forcefully. Colton nodded. "Why else we'd come back to your precious Utopia?" he cackled. He stopped and had a soured look on his face that made Sofia's hair stand. Sofia yelped when she felt Colton's fingernails digging into her head. "Monster…!" Sofia cried out. Colton moved his face closer to hers and he smiled widely. "You made us this way," he said in a way that made Sofia shiver. He then chuckled, "You wanted monsters, apathetic to the plight of others, the sort of folk that remind me now of you. Well, dear o' Sofia, you got them."

"I'll give you anything, just leave Emma out of it," Sofia begged. Colton tilted his head, "And what would a madman offer her Frankenstein?"

"Me, convert me, but damn it Frank leave my daughter alone!" Sofia shouted. Colton smiled and shook his head, "You don't quite understand, do you?"

He unclasped his hands from her head and stepped back a little before he clasped his hands together. "Now, Sofia, killing you outright would be a stupid thing to do. No lesson learned. Turning you into us would be just as stupid. No, my dear sweet Sofia, we have to make you learn your lesson," he sneered. He stepped forward and was face to face with Sofia again, he knelt closer so she'd look into his eyes. "Take from us, take from you," he said simply. He stopped and glanced over to Subject Epsilon, "It's only fair. She took from us. Only fair for us to do the take something from her, correct?"

Subject Epsilon gave a nod. Colton nodded too. Sofia struggled to move in the restraints, her hands were forced down onto the cold table as Colton watched her. Sofia attempted to scream but the restraints begun to cling to her throat, making it impossible. She watched as Colton went around the table with Emma's eyes moving around the room. Colton cracked his knuckles and removed the gag from Emma's mouth. She coughed as she struggled to speak, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why don't you ask your mother what happened to Ciri?" Colton pointed. Emma's hazel moved to Sofia. "Mother, what happened?" she tearfully asked. Sofia chewed on her lips. "It was an accident!" she spouted. Colton stared dead in her eyes, "You know what they say about liars, Sofia."

"Mother, tell me!" Emma cried out. Sofia shouted, "I tried to turn her into a Subject but she passed before the process finished!"

Emma stared at Colton and he nodded. "Your mother said she was a failure, hocked her into the incinerator. Not a damn tear in her eyes. O' Callan never did forgive you for that, Sofia. Thankfully his efforts paid off well to get us all back here for a big reunion," Colton waved his hands. Emma glimpsed at Subject Epsilon that was staring at her dead in her eyes, Emma stared into those silver eyes in return and it unnerved her that the eyes themselves never moved or did Subject Epsilon blink. "So," Colton looked down at Emma. "Any last words… Oh wait; we never had that luxury, either."

Colton looked over to Subject Epsilon, "Ready?"

Subject Epsilon nodded, Colton moved away from the table as Subject Epsilon stepped near Emma's head. Sofia yelled loudly, "Don't take my daughter!"

Colton stomped toward Sofia, stood dead in front of her and clenched her head in his hands. "You know, I'm bloody tired of you talking. All you ever did was talk. Talk, talk, talk, like a damn parrot! The ravens were at least useful bunch. No wonder you failed as a mother," he said as he smacked her head backwards against the table. It was hard enough for Sofia's vision to become blurred as her mind was in a haze. Her head lowered to the ground as she groaned softly. Colton was human, again, but he had his strength still, had he been brutal, she would've died right there and then. Sofia was slowly able to move her head up, but the pain rattled her mind and made it hard for her to raise her head up further. She witnessed Subject Epsilon prodding the slits on its mask, pulling something out. Emma was screaming, but Sofia was unable to hear her. She watched as Colton forced Emma's mouth wide open with retractors. Subject Epsilon dropped something amber colored into Emma's mouth and Emma squirmed in the restraints. Colton removed the retractors as Emma continued to squirm; he went straight to Sofia and forcefully held her head up. Sofia watched as her daughter squirmed violently, she howled until she suddenly stopped and her eyes closed. Subject Epsilon slowly collapsed to the ground, a loud thud as everything suddenly went quiet.

Emma slowly opened her eyes and they moved around, her eyes moved until they stopped at Sofia. Sofia saw in them not her daughter, but someone else. Colton removed the restraints and held out a hand, "Welcome back, my dear Beth."

"Hm, it's good to be back," Beth smiled as she was pulled off the table. She stood up and stretched, she twirled around and stopped. She stared at her old body and frowned, "It feels so strange. I always felt so compressed, my lungs hurting, everything was distorted. And now I don't feel anything."

"You'll get used to it," Colton assured her. Beth nodded, "Will Callan and the others be joining us?"

"Oh, they will be, luv," Colton lightly touched Beth cheek. Beth giggled, "Oh, I missed that!"

"What have you done?" Sofia asked softly. Colton and Beth turned their head toward her. Tears rolled down Sofia's face. "What have you done?" she repeated. Colton smiled with a crazed look, "Guess."

"You made us this way," Beth said mournfully. "We were just doing what you told us to do."

"Emma," cried Sofia. Beth looked at Colton, "Oh, it's so good to be back!"

"Indeed it is," Colton nodded. Beth giggled as she planted kisses on his lips. "Oh, how I missed this," she happily said amid the kisses. Colton chuckled, "Come, come, there will be time for celebration. For now, I believe Sofia has learned her lesson now, have you?"

He looked at Sofia who had a look on her face, she didn't make a sound, her mouth was gap and her eyes wide, and she was certainly dead had Colton not checked her. She was alive and in a shock that she might not escape from. Beth crossed her arms, "Will the Doctor be joining us?"

"The Doctor, hm, the bloke isn't my concern. Alright, she got the message; now let's go find us a body for Callan. He specified he wanted a tall one, is Brody still about?" Colton replied. Beth nodded, "In the backroom with the others."

"Excellent," Colton smiled as he glanced at the old body of Beth. "First I got to burn the body."

He begun to pour substances on the old body, smoke started to climb as the leather burnt away and the mechanical parts started to melt. Afterward, Colton went to the door and Beth skipped across the room to join him, they both wrapped an arm around each other's waists as they exited the room. Sofia could only stare as fire started to crop up from Beth's old body.

* * *

The Doctor and Sherlock stared at each other once again after the tape finished. Sherlock asked the Doctor, "Doctor, who is Frank?"

"I don't know," the Doctor shrugged. "I don't even know any Franks."

"Doctor, he said he always played the "rubbish" tune," Sherlock pointed at him. Doctor slowly looked to the ground and ran a hand through his hair. "And she called him Delta," he mustered.

The Doctor and Sherlock put two to two together. "What's the date this was recorded?" the Doctor pulled the recording device towards him. The last recording was dated recently. "Doctor, how did he?" Sherlock looked at him. The Doctor chewed on his lips as he pushed the recording device back. In his mind the picture came together. The Plague Doctor was actually Subject Delta and that wasn't even his actual name either. No, it was Frank. In the Doctor's mind, he tried to figure out how Frank could've survived the incursion done unto him by UNIT.

"Doctor, he lied to us," Sherlock told him. "He wasn't the last one."

"I know that," the Doctor snapped at him. He recoiled and shook his head as he told Sherlock, "I don't understand why he lied to me—to us."

"Doctor, it's evident that Frank lied to us to cover up what he was really doing," Sherlock quickly said. "Think about what happened in the recording. Somehow, Emma became Beth and if this date is accurate, well, Doctor something's wrong."

"Body snatching," the Doctor summed. Sherlock stopped when it dawned on him. "Doctor, remember Grissom?" he asked. "UNIT never found a body, never found what happened to him."

The Doctor lowered his head to the recording and blinked. It came to him like a freight train going at maximum velocity. Frank somehow got Grissom's body and is using it. "Frank is still here. He has to be. Why else are we here?" Sherlock pointed.

"Then why send the letter?" the Doctor reasoned. Sherlock shrugged, "Who said it was him?"

"It was me," said a voice.


	41. Chapter 34

The Doctor and Sherlock turned their heads to see a woman standing in the doorway. She wore a red dress that went to her legs, had her red hair in a tight bun, skin gleaming in the light, and her eyes were that of silver ingots. When she spoke, she had a faint German accent.

The woman stared at the Doctor and Sherlock. The Doctor tilted his head and asked her, "Who are you?"

The woman skirted in her spot as she reluctantly answered. "Beth. Beth Ottoman. I sent the letter," she told them.

Sherlock eyed her, "The same Beth?"

Beth nodded. "Aye, it's me on that tape."

"So you stole Emma's body," Sherlock pointed at her.

Beth looked to the ground in shame. "I took it, yes," she admits.

"Why take her body?" the Doctor questioned. Beth chewed on her lips as she said, "Do you know how it feels to be trapped in a cage that you can't open no matter how you try?"

"Sofia said Emma was no part of what happened here," Sherlock mentioned. Beth nodded.

"I know," she quietly said. "We were so angry with Sofia. We just forgot ourselves."

"Angry enough you took someone's body?" Sherlock pointed at her. Beth rubbed her eyes, "I know, I know. It was selfish of me. But what was I supposed to do?"

"You could've refused," Sherlock gestured. Beth gave a dry chuckle. "Refuse a chance to return to life? Unheard of, even from you," Beth looked at the ground. "No, I couldn't refuse. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't."

"Is it because of Frank?" Sherlock questioned.

Beth stared at Sherlock, "Frank had nothing to do with my decision. He didn't want us to suffer."

"Why are you here?" the Doctor eyed her.

Beth ran a hand through her hair, pulling back strands. "Frank and the others—they're angry with the scientists. They're angry for what they done to them," she told them. "Doctor, you have to help me. They're going to kill them."

The Doctor considered his options. In his moral code, he had long sections dedicated to body snatching and the like. In some of his past regenerations he'd tell her off and what have you. In others, he'd help her. This time around, the Doctor was mixed.

Sherlock looked at Beth. She was genuine. Her body language indicated that she was legitimately afraid and she wanted their help. So far from what he could tell, both he and the Doctor could trust her.

"First, you tell me what the hell is going on," the Doctor finally said to Beth. "What happened here?"

Beth chewed on her lips as she explained.

Years ago, roughly forty or so, Utopia was in full swing. One half was for a social experiment to test how well humans can survive underwater before requiring medical examination and the other half dealt with the war effort. "As you remember Doctor that was around the time the Cybermen first came around" Beth looked to him.

The Cybermen were ruthless and continuously upgraded when a flaw was found. "They used to be lethally allergic to gold," the Doctor remembered.

Simple robotics and the like weren't effective. Some were easily appropriated by the Cybermen while others were instantly destroyed in battles. In a bid, Utopia threw out its lead scientist and brought in new blood. Sofia Lamb. Sofia would help create the infamous project, Project Alpha.

"The idea would be for humans to be converted," Beth said. "Humans can't be hacked."

"Did anyone else know about the project?" Sherlock asked her. She shook her head. "Just the ones," she replied.

Sofia would start the project with people from the East Wing. The idea at the time was for people to overdose on recreational drugs and needed to be taken to the West Wing for treatment. "As you know by now, they never got to the West Wing," Beth shook her head in disgust.

None of them survived and Sofia realized that she couldn't take more people from the East Wing without drawing suspicion. She then decided that they needed topsiders to experiment on. The idea would be for topsiders to be taken randomly, preferably by those they know as to blackmail them later. With the South Wing's only pier, Pier 17, separated by the other piers, no one will know what was going on.

The idea took off. Seventeen people were taken during the time. Only one managed to survive long enough for data to be written down but he died. However, Sofia ran into another problem when she planned for more topsiders. Due to how many people were blackmailed into helping her, some were getting cold feet. She quickly had the blackmailed party taken and experimented on while she vested time to look into alternatives.

If no topsiders or people from the East Wing, then who else could she experiment on?

The next idea would be the one that became mainstay. "One of the sergeants brought Sofia a module used by the Cybermen. It allowed them to travel between universes. He only wanted her to reverse engineer it, but she used it as inspiration," Beth sighed as she rubbed her eyes. "She used it to gain access to other universes."

Using the module, Sofia would have similar modules engineered and developed a tier of soldiers who would use them. The Guards as Beth called them. The Guards' job was for them to enter a universe and collect different subjects. Some became friendly with a target while others knew them. "Alice Walker was Frank's best friend, Doctor," Beth told him. "It hurt Frank that he betrayed him."

"He killed him," the Doctor pointed at her. Sherlock nodded. Beth sighed, "I know he did."

Several subjects were taken at a time and few survived long enough for Sofia to gain data from them. Eventually, Sofia found what she was looking for and created Amber. "Amber took our lives. Amber gave us new life," Beth summed.

Amber was not like a motherboard or any other chips used in technology. It was preprogrammed to serve only few purposes. Convert the intended subject and have him or her obey his or her Keeper. Above all else, they would obey Sofia. The idea was that Cybermen hacked and appropriated whatever physical and tangible technology served their uses. Yet, liquid like Amber was something unheard of. "No Cyberman would think to appropriate Amber," Beth gave a weary chuckle.

The Amber was a success and Sofia would continue to use it. There was of course a problem where Amber either killed the recipient or gave them a short life span for some of the subjects. "Some either died from the Amber or died later," Beth wiped her eyes. "So many died from the procedure, too many to count."

"And what was the end result?" the Doctor asked her. Beth pointed to herself, "Us."

Eventually, Sofia would find the perfect balance and create the Alpha Series.

"What about you?" Sherlock asked Beth. Beth frowned, "I had cancer, final stage. I had one too many treatments and I was finished. None of my family or friends wanted me to stop treatment but I had enough of being sick, losing my hair, my life as a whole. I decided that I would go for one more round of treatment before I quit."

"And Sofia got you where she wanted you," Sherlock summed. Beth nodded.

The Doctor stared at Beth, "How many of you are there?"

"For us, only five including me," Beth told him. "As for others, you've seen the Beta Series I'm sure of."

"Are they made of people too?" Sherlock asked her. Beth shook her head. "Sofia didn't see the need to put people into chassis if they were only to be servicemen," she said. "She thought it was a waste."

"What about Ciri?" Sherlock brought up. Beth gave a look as she rubbed her eyes. "Ciri was Callan's little girl. She was six," she told him. The Doctor tilted his head, "What happened?"

"You heard the tape, Doctor," Beth shook her head at him. Sherlock crossed his arms, "Frank thought by giving you Emma's body it would be retribution for what happened to Ciri?"

Beth slowly nodded. Sherlock turned to the Doctor, "What do you make of it?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted.

Beth eyed them both. "Please, I'm sick of the bloodshed," she pleaded.

The Doctor chewed on his lips and nodded. "Alright, we'll help. No tricks," he pointed at Beth. Beth nodded, "Thank you, Doctor."

"Doctor, are you sure this is a good idea?" Sherlock looked at him. The Doctor nodded, "We need to finish what was started."

"Frank and the others are in the back. They've been arguing about what to do with the scientists," Beth told them. "I told them I was going to check on things."

"So it was you who was watching us," Sherlock looked at her. She nodded. "If I wasn't the one watching you, then I believe they would lead the Betas to you."

"What of Celia?" the Doctor asked her. She replied, "That was another reason I wanted to come back here. I was trying to download Celia so I can bring her with me."

"Is Celia a person?" Sherlock questioned. Beth gave a look, "No, she is an AI. But that's not the point, she's lonely down here."

"Right, you're not here for quest for vengeance but they are," the Doctor summed. "Haven't you tried stopping them?"

"I tried Doctor. Frank won't listen, none of them will," Beth frowned.

The Doctor nodded, "Right. So, what do you propose?"

"The Betas, they're not as apt as us. They're a danger to the stability to Utopia. Celia's kept them from getting to close to areas where they used to work. The only way to surprise them is to get them when it's dark. They can't see in the dark," Beth began. The Doctor nodded, "Can they be stopped?"

"They are vulnerable to electricity. So much a spark and they fall down flat," Beth explained. "They're drawn to loud noises, if it helps."

"Loud noises," Sherlock turned to the Doctor. "Thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"And how," the Doctor nodded. He turned to Beth, "What else needs to be done?"

"Freeing the scientists," Beth said. "I can draw the others' attention away for a short time."

"I can bring the TARDIS to us," the Doctor nodded.

Sherlock looked at Beth, "What about them?"

"I was hoping you can talk sense into them," Beth sheepishly said. The Doctor blinked, "And what if it falls through?"

"Frank will have to listen to me then," Beth pointed at herself. "And when Frank listens, they all will."

The Doctor looked at Sherlock and Sherlock looked at him. They considered their options and agreed. Beth would lure the others away and the Doctor can bring the TARDIS to the scientists. Sherlock would keep a hand around his gun for when things don't go the way they should. The idea was set and they were ready for action.

"John always said I had a loudmouth," Sherlock rolled his eyes as he tugged on his suit. "Suppose it'll come in handy."

"Celia will help you," Beth told him. "She knows where everything is."

Sherlock nodded as Beth summoned Celia. Celia materialized beside Sherlock and stared at him. Beth knelt beside her and said, "Celia, this is Sherlock. He is going to help us. Please help him in any way you can."

Celia turned to Sherlock and nodded, "Okay, mama!"

Sherlock followed Celia as she exited the room.

Beth turned to the Doctor, "I can keep them busy for at most thirty minutes. You have to work fast."

"I've run from things faster than me," the Doctor nodded as he began to walk past her. He stopped when she lightly touched his arm. "Doctor," Beth looked at him. He looked at her, "Please. Don't hurt them."

"I won't," the Doctor replied as he departed from the room.


	42. Chapter 35

Celia led Sherlock toward the elevator. She turned to him, "Are you a detective?"

"I am," Sherlock nodded. Celia stared at him. "Jack was a detective," she mentioned. Sherlock tilted his head. "Who was Jack?" he asked her. Celia smiled, "He was a detective, like you."

"What happened to Jack?" Sherlock continued. Celia pondered before she frowned. "Jack went away," she replied. Sherlock blinked. "Went away, to where?" he asked her. Celia continued to frown. "To the topside," Celia said. "They took him."

"Who did?" Sherlock watched as the elevator opened. Celia turned to the elevator. He heard her say before she vanished, "The Bad Men."

Sherlock entered the elevator and the door closed the moment he stepped through. Slowly the elevator ascended to the Main Plaza. Upon exiting Celia reappeared and led Sherlock toward the North Wing.

"Mama says they have things to lure them in the North Wing," Celia skipped toward the elevator. Sherlock crossed his arms, "Like what?"

"Control rods," Celia replied. Sherlock stopped, "But there weren't any when we checked."

"They moved them," Celia told him. "They're in the storage unit."

"Why keep them there?" Sherlock asked her. Celia replied as the elevator door opened, "The Alpha ones broke and the Beta ones wouldn't work."

"So the Beta ones are in storage, what became of the Alpha ones?" Sherlock stepped through the elevator and turned to Celia as she stood in front of the doorway. "They were destroyed," Celia answered as the elevator door closed.

The elevator descended and Sherlock chewed on his lips. It didn't surprise him the least they tried to control the Beta Series with another set of control rods. Or the fact that the control rods couldn't stop the Beta Series from becoming nothing more than automated death traps. They were a threat to the stability to Utopia as they could not be controlled and simple programming was predictably deleted. Given that Celia had to keep them from damaging important valves and the like, Sherlock dreaded what might've happened if Celia was not active before he and the Doctor came to Utopia.

Sherlock planned how to deal with the Beta Series. Since Celia knew where everything was and how to access them, Sherlock felt that if worst comes to shove, Celia could help him get to safety. She was an AI and didn't have two-hundred fifteen bones and organs to worry about; Sherlock however didn't have that luxury.

When the elevator door opened, Celia was there. She led Sherlock through the North Wing toward the storage unit, skipping along the way. Despite being an AI, Celia had all the traits shared with a human girl. It unsettled Sherlock, for why would Utopia want her to look that way. He couldn't help but ask her as she led him.

"Celia," began Sherlock as he kept up with Celia. "What were you programmed to do?"

"Me?" Celia stopped and turned to him. Sherlock nodded. "They said they were lonely and they wanted a friend," Celia said to him. Sherlock blinked, "You mean, the Alphas?"

"Yeah," Celia slowly nodded.

Sherlock nodded again. "And, what of Callan?" he asked her.

"Callan was lonely," Celia answered.

It crossed Sherlock's mind. Nay, it invaded it. They had Celia programmed specifically to replicate a young girl, around the age Ciri was. No doubt Callan in his Alpha form would be unable to comprehend the difference and likely assume Celia was his daughter. The fact they knew was more enough to make Sherlock's stomach churn.

"Was Jack lonely, too?" Sherlock walked up to the door that led into the storage unit where there was a keypad next to the door. Celia stepped near the keypad and glanced at Sherlock. "Jack had a brother," Celia said. Sherlock blinked. "He did, what happened to him?" Sherlock continued. Celia replied with, "The Bad Men got him."

Sherlock chewed on his lips and nodded. Given what little he heard, it didn't take long before it came to Sherlock what happened to Jack and his brother. Someone got wind of what Jack was actually doing and done to him as done to the others, his brother no doubt suffered the same fate as it would be a way to keep the truth hidden. The fact this had gone on for almost five decades, it was something that Sherlock was unfamiliar with.

From meeting with Frank when he was still an Alpha to now, Sherlock could safely say that these two cases could never be topped. John would find a way to turn this tale into another novel. The first novel was an acclaimed success; in fact, the success was enough for John to dabble in the science fiction genre when he wasn't writing detective stories out his and Sherlock's cases.

Yet, how could Sherlock explain what is happening now will be a different story. He himself wasn't sure how this was all happening. It only seemed like yesterday he was solving the case of an ill mattered broker. Now, he's solving a case in another universe from his own. This fact was something Sherlock wasn't sure what to think about. On one hand, it rattled in his mind that there are other universes, other worlds, with their own political nightmares and the like. On another, he wasn't sure what to think about it.

Celia stared at the keypad for only a few minutes before the light turned green and the door opened.

The storage room was comprised of rows of metal framed shelves, four shelves per six rows. There were clipboards on each of the shelves that showed a list of items that the shelf had. Some shelves were supplies such as pens and papers while others were medical kits. Given what being a Keeper and Guard entailed, no doubt the need for the kits was plenty.

Sherlock walked through the shelves, checking each one. He found boxes of papers that were used to mislead police and anyone who'd look at them, used in the event of something being taken. One of those papers he found made him cringe. The papers were suicide notes, each differently written to avoid being linked, and the way they were written was another example of what horrible deeds were done in Utopia.

Sherlock continued to look through the shelves until Celia called to him. She pointed to a row where there were padlocked containers with warnings tapped all over. No one was supposed be anywhere near them without supervision or permission. Anyone caught near these containers would be withheld in an unnamed location until further notice.

Sherlock lightly touched one of the containers and pulled his hand away, a thick layer of dust remained on his hand. "No one has been here for forty years?" Sherlock turned to Celia as she was glancing at the containers. Celia stopped and turned to him. She nodded, "Yeah. After the Beta Project failed no one has been in here."

Sherlock read the labels on each of the containers. "What one should I take?" he asked Celia. Celia frowned, "You need the Master Control Rod."

"Right, control them all at once. Which container has it?" Sherlock continued. Celia continued to frown. "I don't know. It's not on the official records. It could be in any of the containers," she explained.

Sherlock cringed before finally nodding. "Okay, is it different than the other ones?" Sherlock asked her. Celia pondered. "It should have M.C.R. somewhere on the handle," she said finally. Sherlock rubbed his chin as he glanced at the row of containers. "How many control rods are there?" Sherlock turned to Celia. Celia pondered before answering, "Forty-six."

"Forty-six," Sherlock cringed. "There are forty-six Betas?"

"Forty-six active Betas," Celia corrected him. "There are a twenty control rods in each container for one hundred and fifty Betas."

"What happened to the hundred and four?" Sherlock asked. Celia glanced at the containers, "They were destroyed."

"Bloody hell," Sherlock cursed. While forty-six Betas were dangerous as is, even Sherlock couldn't fathom the thought of dealing with all one hundred and fifty Betas at once.

With Celia's help he pried open the containers. Inside were rows of control rods. The control rods looked like batons and weighed almost like cricket balls. They were colored black and on the handles were numbers in accordance to the Beta it was for. Sherlock glanced at the control rods as he pulled one at a time from the containers. With Celia, Sherlock kept track of the ones he pulled and ones he hadn't.

As Sherlock pulled another control rod from a container, he found that it was tinted red unlike the others. On the handle, there was a faint blooded hand print, left handed. Sherlock asked Celia about it. She told him that a Keeper who controlled Beta One was horrifically gored when it turned on him after it was led through a darkened area and no longer recognized him as its Keeper. What fate befell the Keeper, Sherlock could tell.

"When I find this control rod, what am I supposed to do?" Sherlock asked Celia. Celia told him, "I have to hack it for you to use it. When I do, you can command the Betas from anywhere in Utopia. They will all come to you the moment you command them."

"And where should I lead them?" Sherlock continued as he grabbed another control rod out of the container. "You have to lead them to the treatment facility," Celia said. "It's a controlled environment. There are emergency valves to dispel excess water and safety equipment to keep from being electrocuted."

"Well, that's useful," commented Sherlock as he pushed one of the containers from him and grabbed another. "I hope the Doctor is having luck."


	43. Chapter 36

Beth tugged on her dress as she headed back to the back room. Her mind was fettered with thoughts and feelings. The different scenarios came to her. She dared not utter what they were. She only hoped that the Doctor and Sherlock would succeed.

Stepping near the door she gently knocked on it. "It's Beth," she said. The door opened and she entered. There were four men sitting around the table, playing poker. Straddled together in fear were the scientists who haplessly looked on.

"Anything of interest," asked Leon as he sat a card down. "It's so strange being here again," Beth admitted. Joseph rubbed his eyes and nodded. "She's right Frankie. I never thought to see this place again," he said as he reshuffled his cards. "I never thought to see the day I'd come back," Callan admitted. Colton slowly nodded, "It an odd feeling being back."

Beth slowly drew the plan in her mind as she talked to them. "Frank," she said to him. He turned his head, "Yeah?"

"Maybe we ought to take a break. We've been debating for hours," Beth said with great concern. Colton scratched his chin as he looked at the others before looking back at her. "Beth is right, Frankie. Hey, I bet you those twits have barrels of Amber still lying around. Think we ought to do something about it?" Leon glanced at Colton. Callan chewed on his lips, "Sofia's comatose and the scientists aren't stupid enough to cross us."

"I think I can do with a break," Joseph glanced at Colton. "Come on, they're not going anywhere."

Colton laid his cards down and looked at them. He chewed on his lips before he nodded. "I'm sick of arguing continuously. And those barrels ought to be destroyed. We wouldn't want Lambert getting her mitts on it," he concluded as he stood up. "And, I wouldn't mind a walk with my dear Beth, if she feels up to it."

Beth joined his side and planted a kiss on his lips. She pulled away and nodded, "Of course, I will walk with you."

"Alright, let's lock 'em up. Hey Joe, you up for playing football with the lab equipment, I remember that hack Grissom had a skull in his old office," Leon looked at Joseph. Joseph chuckled as he rubbed his eyes. "Sure, I can go for some football. What rules?" Joseph smiled. Leon stood up and stretched out his arms, "Well shuck, I guess we can go for, "if it don't break after being thrown, it gets to be the ball" rules."

"Sure, we got time. Hey Cal, are you up ransacking offices?" Joseph glimpsed to Callan standing up. Callan ran a hand through his ginger hair as he replied. "My football is different than your football," he told them. Leon snickered, "It's still the same thing."

"Come on, we can toss around those busts," Joseph chuckled. Callan crossed his arms and pondered. "I have nothing better to do," he sighed. "Cool, we got ourselves a football tournament," Leon clapped. Joseph stopped him. "Two against one, that's uneven," Joseph told him. Leon blinked, "Oh, right. Hey Frankie, you sure you don't want to play some football?"

"No thank you. I was never a sports type," Colton declined as he wrapped an arm around Beth's waist.

"Alright, suit yourself. Okay you sorry sacks of worthless flesh, back to your cages!" Leon barked at the scientists. Joseph and Callan helped carrel them and Leon led them to the lockup.

Colton led Beth out of the room and they took a stroll down the hall. "When we leave, where are we going to go?" Beth asked him. "I don't want to stay here, in this universe."

"Well, I found a universe. It's not as technologically advanced as the others, but it's a simple life. No Daleks. No Cybermen. Pure bliss," Colton summed. Beth slowly nodded, "What about yours?"

"There's no point to stay in it. My family is dead. There is no one to recognize me," Colton lamented. "It's been too long."

"I see," Beth quietly said as she draped her head on his shoulder. Colton sighed, "As they say, life gives us lemons. It is up to us to make lemonade."

"I'm sure we'll make a new life," Beth told him. "We have a second chance now."

"That you are right, my dear," Colton nodded. "I don't know what'd happen if we remained in those bodies for long."

"Considering what happened to you, I fear it as well," Beth squeezed his arm. Colton looked at the ground briefly. "I knew it was her the moment they showed up. She was always sharp for her own good," he scorned. Beth reached for his hand. "What are we going to do about Lambert?" she asked him. Colton frowned. "I know how you feel, my dear, but we cannot risk ourselves going after her," he explained. "Jack set the standard. Let his successor do the rest."

"You think he can stop Lambert?" Beth looked at Colton. Colton nodded, "He has help."

"Help," Beth blinked. Colton lightly touched her face with his free hand. "He's been corresponding with someone. Lambert and the others won't be trouble any longer," Colton explained.

They continued to stroll until they stopped at a set of doors. With a push of a button, the doors opened into a garden. Inside, they strolled through the engineered plants that were still lively even without human contact. Colton said to Beth as they passed by a row of cherry blossoms, "I will always protect you, my dear."


	44. Chapter 37

"So, this lady of yours, she do you in?" asked Leon as he walked with Joseph toward the storage unit where the Amber was kept. Joseph shook his head and sighed. He ran a hand through his thinning gray hair before he answered Leon's question. He replied with, "She didn't. That rat bastard of a neighbor did."

Leon nodded and rubbed his soul patch. He then asked, "Well, why he do it, do you know?"

"Sadly, I think I do," Joseph sighed. His silver eyes gleamed in the dim lights as they walked. In them, sadness overcame the usually disposed man who once adored life. He now had nothing to his name. His home, his family, his two children, nothing could ever been reclaimed now. It was too late, time had won. He'd never get his old life back. "My neighbor had a "crush" on my wife."

"Damn, smoked by your neighbor because he liked your lady," Leon shook his head in anger. He himself had that problem. Though instead of a wife or a girlfriend, he was smoked by someone who he thought he knew best. Leon then remembered the golden rule. No matter how long you knew a person, be it since birth or school, there will always be something about them that no one knew. "Didn't they say you're more likely to be smoked by the people you know?"

Joseph frowned. It was true. One was likelier to be killed, robbed, or worse by those they knew. It was much rarer to be victimized by strangers and even then, the scenarios likely to happen are far in between. You are more likely to be struck by lightning than you are to win the lottery, after all. Joseph finally said, "Yeah. Usually how it goes, it's never a case with strangers unless otherwise."

Leon nodded. He then chewed on his lips before he said to Joseph, "Know how I got smoked?"

"Well, I figured since you were always trying to strangle the female Keepers, I can hedge a guess," Joseph shrugged. Leon while he was Subject Beta had a nasty habit of trying to harm female Keepers. Something Leon wasn't aware of. The Amber in his veins and the programming in the mechanic part of the chassis incapacitated his mind. He was no more aware of the suffering he endured than the rest. It was said the root of the problem stemmed from how Leon was captured. In the small part of the brain matter that remained, he only saw the one who "smoked" him.

"That stuff, Amber, it just screwed with me. I couldn't tell who was who. Anytime a chick came by, I just see _her_," Leon confessed. He frowned as he looked to the ground. He chewed on his lips as he remembered the few times that he could how often he tried to hurt innocent Keepers. As innocent as one could say about people who always ordered you around and there were nothing you could do to stop them. He heard in passing the many times he almost harmed the female Keepers that watched over them, to the point he was only assigned male Keepers from then on. It was an unpleasant experience all around. "How could've I been so stupid to think for once in my life, I'd find someone who'd like me."

"It was an honest mistake. You didn't know that drink was spiked much less that she was involved," Joseph comforted him. They walked into the storage unit to find barrels of Amber lined evenly against the walls. Leon took one look and sighed, "Makes me think, what we'd become if not for Amber. Would we still remember?"

"Never forget, but don't linger. What happened has happened. Nothing can change that," Joseph reminded him as they both stepped near a barrel. Joseph ripped the lid off the barrel, revealing the Amber substance that bubbled from the exposure. He helped turn the barrel over the drain, spilling the Amber. Leon chewed on his lips before he looked at Joseph. "But, what if we could change that?" he wondered as he helped Joseph grab the next barrel. "What if we could go back to the way things used to be?"

Joseph pondered as he helped spill the Amber from the second barrel. He himself wondered that as well. However, in his mind he knew already. There was no way of going back. This would've still happened to them no matter what. If not then, certainly it would happen now. He then said to Leon, "Ever heard of the Tennant Theory?"

"Tennant Theory, what the hell is that?" Leon stared at Joseph as they went toward the next barrel.

"It's a theory," Joseph began as they grabbed the third barrel. As Joseph ripped off the top and poured the Amber into the drain, he explained further. "It's simply this: if say we never had the World Wars then, we'd have them now. Even if Adolf Hitler never did the things he done, someone else would have taken up the mantle. And if history is anything to say, then that person will be far worse than Hitler ever was."

"So what you're saying is, if none of the bad shit happened then, they will likely happen now and it is worse than before," Leon summed as he helped grab a barrel. "But how is it any different than the wars we got now?"

"Remember the saying: don't repeat history?" Joseph looked at Leon as they poured the barrel. "I'd imagine the States or the USSR or both would've nuked each other to oblivion if the Cold War never happened."

"So, how does that factor in with us?" Leon pointed at himself as Joseph tossed the empty barrel aside. Joseph rubbed his brow before he answered. He replied, "Without us putting a wrench into the Hal Corporation's plans, then they would likely continue with the atrocities. If Cal's little girl is anything to say, Hal Corporation will be heading into "that" territory."

"Shit, the fact that it happened. I can't believe Sofia was that cold to do that to a little girl," Leon winced. He remembered it well, how Callan was brought to Utopia with his daughter. How Sofia was quick to use Ciri to further her plans. How apathetic Sofia was when Ciri didn't survive the conversion process. Callan while he was still Subject Gamma used to rely on Celia's presence to keep from going insane from his loss. It was a horrible moment and the pivotal point toward the rebellion. How Callan still managed to hold it together just long enough for Colton to find a body for him was still a mystery. "The fact that Callan still had the will to live is a miracle in its own right!"

"Look at this way, his little girl is with her mother in Heaven," Joseph reminded him. While Joseph wasn't a praying man, considering what happened to him and the others it made him took to religion. Though at times, even he doesn't know if what he's doing is the right thing or not. A black and white morality wasn't something he and the others have now. "That's all that matters."

"Hey, you think… you think we'd still go to Heaven?" Leon asked Joseph as they finished pouring out the last bit of Amber from the final barrel. Joseph patted his hands as he pondered the question. He took into consideration with what they were doing. They were deciding how to deal with the scientists, the people that made them the way they were. How long it's been, Joseph himself has taken to Beth's stance on letting them go. It has been far too long. Much of the scientists who worked on that infamous project have sense died or suffered from crippling dementia or such. The rest were past their prime and considering that Joseph had found that most of them have regretted being a part of the project, there was still hope for humanity. Yet, the yearning for retribution was strong, even for him. He answered with, "That is between us and God."

"I used to go to church with my ma. I forgot the name but it was a Christian church in the Bronx. Ma made me go every Sunday. I used to fake illnesses so I didn't have to go. I remember it was so boring, my ma used to pinch me whenever I fell asleep. But every time I went with her, the pastor used to say to us like "sometimes, bad things happen to good people. Sometimes, it's because of this that many good people do bad things themselves" man, forward to now, I never knew how right he was," Leon frowned as he looked at Joseph they both had looks on their faces as they stood in the storage unit. Joseph nodded, "So many good men become sour, and that is a sin in its own right."

"I don't know if I could hate the sin and love the sinner," Leon frowned. "I mean, the scientists, they did this to us. They had the power to say no to Sofia. They had power to stop it. But they didn't. Does this still apply?"

"Leon, be real with me. Are you having second guesses?" Joseph eyed him. Leon held up his hands as he sighed. Joseph nodded and then said, "I am too."

"I mean, I don't know what to say. I want them to suffer, but at the same time… it's like an earwig festering," Leon described his mind. Joseph understood and Leon rubbed his eyes. Joseph pointed at Leon, "Well, what's your opinion?"

"My opinion on everything that happened…?" Leon stopped and considered. Everything that happened to him, to the moment Batgirl set him up; to the moment he became Subject Beta. The moment everything from his old life faded away and no longer existed, all his old friends moved on and his family had eventually found the strength to move on from his alleged disappearance. The scientists then weren't as god fearing men they were now; most took to religion pretty heavily after they were forced out of Hal Corporation. And those that died during the rebellion, well, that was self-explanatory. Too many people died, by the scientists' hands and by Leon and the others' and that fact was well-known now. "I just want everyone to know what they did to us. That we were systematically kidnapped from our own universes and never had to chance to defend ourselves. Then, then I just want to go home."

"Alas, I think there is no going home for us," Joseph shook his head. Leon looked at the ground briefly before he nodded. "I miss New York, _my_ New York," Leon mournfully said. "I miss my Ma."

"I miss my family," Joseph nodded. "I miss them so much."

"And we can't see them again," Leon chewed on his lips. Joseph nodded. Leon rubbed his eyes and sniffled a little. "What do we do, Joe? What are we supposed to do?" Leon questioned. "Nothing we do will take us back to that point of time where everything was fine. Nothing we do will get our lives back, our friends, and our families. What's the point?"

"Doomed to remember what we lost, that's a fate far worse than death," Leon frowned. He then looked at Joseph. He asked him, "What do you think?"

"I think we have to let go," Joseph admitted. He then quickly said, "Look what we're doing, we're tying up people who can't defend themselves anymore, talking about how to kill them, we're becoming like them."

"Beth was right, doing this is not going to get our lives back. The best we can do with is with what we have now," Leon frowned. He then stopped and said, "What about Cal and Frankie?"

"Cal lost a lot, there's no question about it. I'm sure he's sick of this as well. Frank, Frank I don't know about," Joseph summed. After finishing up in the storage room, they exited the room and begun to make their way toward one of the offices where they planned to play some football with the statuettes. On their minds, they continued to question what they wanted out the life they were given back. They caught up with Callan who had been looking through offices, grabbing for things they could use as the "ball".

Elsewhere, the Doctor counted down in his mind. He counted down to when it would be appropriate to send for the TARDIS. He had to keep the time; he didn't know when everyone would leave the backroom. Hiding in one of the offices, the Doctor pressed an ear against the door. He heard two footsteps go past and a woman talking. It was Beth and Frank. What they were talking about, the Doctor wasn't able to hear.

When they passed the Doctor slipped out of the office and snuck into another office diagonal from the previous. He found that it was Grissom's office, finding the displays of preserved insects. Some were exotic and others were outwardly, some that the Doctor could not name on the top of his head.

Before the Doctor could once more sneak out of the office, he heard three sets of footsteps nearing it. The Doctor's eyes spun around the room until they found the closest near the bookshelf. Quickly, the Doctor ran to it and using his Sonic Screwdriver, jimmied the lock and dived inside. He closed the door as quick as the other opened and as the Doctor hid in the walk-in closest he overheard three sets of different voices. One belonged to Joseph. One belonged to Leon. And one belonged to Callan. They were discussing something about a football tourney. Leon laughed that Callan might get confused with the rules, but Callan shushed him.

While trapped in the closest, the Doctor found an unlocked filing cabinet near the wall. Grissom had a few files in the filing cabinet and as the Doctor read them, they were about the beetles that infested the chasses of the Subjects. The beetles began to mutate shortly after they were exposed to the Amber post-conversion process. Grissom found that the Amber changed, containing DNA of the person in the chasses. With that in mind, Grissom concluded that the person could use the beetles to in his own words, "cheat death". Given how Frank stole Grissom's body, it was easy to say how that played out.

The Doctor began to hear things being thrown around the office. Glass shattered and laughter erupted from the office, apparently busts made for good footballs. Then, the Doctor heard one of the men going, "Hey, you think there's stuff in this closest?"

"Well, it's not like Grissom's going to mind, yeah?" said another.

The Doctor's two hearts began to beat against one another as he quickly looked around the room. There was no way he could hide, they will surely find him. His eyes then found a vent near the shelves, it wasn't big but it was enough for him to crawl through. The Doctor quickly used his Sonic Screwdriver to pry open the grate. Once the grate came off the Doctor crawled inside the vent, using his Sonic Screwdriver once again to screw the grate back into place. The Doctor shuffled as he crawled behind a corner and moved just enough to see a pair of legs going near the shelves. "Let's see, jars of insects, books, man Grissom was such a _putz_," the Doctor heard one of them say. "Leo, the man liked insects, not like it matters," he heard another. Leon chortled, "Yeah, no wonder he couldn't get any dates. Remember that woman he was interested in, something Sidle?"

"Ashley Sidle and she wasn't his type, remember," they continued to speak to one another. The Doctor eavesdropped enough to learn that the scientists were locked in an area attached to the backroom where they would keep people to be "processed". The Doctor having heard enough quietly moved his way through the vents.

It took time for the Doctor to move around the vents until he started to hear crying. Faint murmurs as he neared the source until he found himself looking down at the scientists. The scientists were huddled together, their faces frozen with fear. They were all looking at the door to the room, expecting for the others to come through at any point.

The Doctor then used his Sonic Screwdriver to remove the grate before he shuffled down to the ground. As he brushed himself off he was stared at. Some scorned him while others hid behind each other, all afraid of him. The Doctor coughed before he introduced himself. "I am the Doctor. I'm going to help you," he said to them. One of the scientists approached him and said, "How do we know you're not going to kill us?"

"Please, we don't have time," the Doctor took a glance at one of the scientists' watch. "We only have ten minutes before they come back."

"What do you plan to do?" asked one of the scientists. The Doctor chewed on his lips before he quickly said, "Make room."

The scientists moved and the Doctor stepped in front of them. With his Sonic Screwdriver he signaled for the TARDIS to materialize before their very eyes. The sound of scrapping metal emitted from the center of the room until the TARDIS appeared right then and there. The Doctor went up to it and opened the door. He turned to the scientists and with his pleading eyes he said to them, "Get inside, quick!"

The scientists took no time to heed. They all filed into the TARDIS quickly as the Doctor entered last and closed the door. He reached the panel and flipped several switches. He had a plan to get Frank and the others to listen to Beth. As the TARDIS disappeared from the room and reappeared elsewhere in Utopia, the Doctor stopped and turned to the scientists. For his plan to work, he had to be sure.

"Alright everyone, I am the Doctor," he quickly said as he walked up and down the TARDIS while looking at them. "And I have a plan to get everyone out of here without getting hurt. Now, for my plan to work I need everyone here to listen to me and follow my plan to the letter."

He then stopped and glanced around. He asked them, "Do you regret what you have done?"

"What have _we_ done?" balked a scientist. "Look at what _they_ done to Sofia!"

"Shut up!" the Doctor shouted at him. "What happened to Sofia was unfortunate but she and you lot have done a lot, too."

"Please, we just want to go home," a scientist murmured. Another agreed.

The Doctor chewed on his lips, "Listen. Listen to me, the only way for us to leave without anyone getting hurt is to bargain."

"Bargain, how can we bargain with those _things_?" a scientist asked. The Doctor scorned her. He said, "I know what they done and I know what you lot done. So listen carefully when I say that I have seen far worse. Worlds destroyed by the people meant to protect them. Entire universes imploded because of greed and what have you, never to be known about ever again. Now, for this to work, you have to tell me the truth: do you regret what you have done to them. And remember, lying isn't an option and if you so much as cause problems, we might not make it out of here."

The scientists were willing to listen to the Doctor now, no longer willing to interrupt with crude remarks or the like. The Doctor nodded as he continued. "The only way for them to be satiated is for the whole world to know what happened here. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth, even if it implicates you in any way shape or form, I don't care what it is but it has to be said or shown to the world. Everything that ever happened here, anyone who has died here, and everything else that I haven't heard must be made public."

"But, Doctor," a scientist piped up. "What about the Cybermen?"

"The Cybermen aren't going to care. In their eyes you're destroying each other and that's as good to them as any other," the Doctor replied as he went around the TARDIS. "It's the only way."

"What about Utopia?" the scientist beside him asked. The Doctor chewed on his lips before he answered. "We destroy Utopia. After I take you lot out of here, I'll come back and destroy it. Too much blood has been spilt here. How much more should we spill before it's enough?" he raised a hand. The scientists looked each other with looks on their faces. The Doctor sighed, "So everyone on the same page?"

"If we do what you ask, what about the fact they killed Ryan and the others?" the scientist near the Doctor asked. The Doctor stared coolly at him and replied with, "No one's clean here. Blood has been spilled on both sides. You all have done things you weren't proud of. How it's handled it's up to you."


	45. Chapter 38

Running was something Sherlock was used to doing. Many a time Sherlock had days where he had to run for his life for the sake of solving crimes and the like. Some of those times it involved angry men with guns or angry women with knives, sometimes both and sometimes opposite. Whatever case it was, Sherlock was running. Unlike the LPD he didn't have the luxury of owning one of the bullet proof armors. Lestrade wasn't keen on giving him one considering that under a technicality, Sherlock wasn't actually a part of the LPD. He was "outside help" as Lestrade described and it meant that legally Sherlock wasn't allowed to have any bullet proof armor unless there was a specific reason. Like say, being a wanted target or some other.

Sherlock was going to steal one nevertheless. But the fact was he hadn't bothered. In most cases he would've gone out, stole one, and came back in time to catch John waiting for him. These days, however, he was dealing with cases after cases. What with John being a father now, he no longer had the help he used to have. True, he had Mycroft, but the fact was simply, Sherlock would rather take a bullet than to ask Mycroft for help. And considering Mycroft, it was more or less the same mentality for him as well.

As for now, Sherlock wished he had that bullet proof vest, because it would've help protect him a little. Being chased by a horde of Betas does that to a person and that person is wishing he had his own TARDIS.

Celia had disappeared to ready the treatment facility for the trap and without her guidance, Sherlock was running blind. Running blind with a horde of Betas following behind was something Sherlock never had a plan for, but after this, this will be filed under his mental cabinet as "bring running shoes next time".

Sherlock hopped over debris and anything else that got in his way. The Betas tore apart anything that got in their way with their drills. Sherlock wasn't going to think what would happen to him if he was caught by them. He already had enough things on his mind.

He slid over the wet floors as he ran down steps, almost tripping on the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom the Betas were already coming down those steps. Apparently whoever designed them had the good sense to make their design stair friendly, which in Sherlock's case, a very terrible thing.

Running to the bottom of the final stair case, Sherlock was met with a stuck door. Rust from the seawater had sealed it shut. Glancing up the staircase to see red lights, Sherlock was quick to use his shoulders to brute force the door open. It took several hard slams against the door, but it was enough for it to become unstuck. Though his shoulder was throbbing in pain, Sherlock ran through the doorway and shut the door before turning around and running.

His mind faltered between plans. He had a plethora of plans in the case that the plan to electrocute the Betas doesn't work. Using the glitch as his basis, Sherlock came up with a plausible plan. Since Betas cannot function properly in the darkness, Sherlock planned to use it against them. If all fells he'd use the darkness against them. Have them destroy each other in the mass confusion brought on by the glitch and Sherlock would be in the pink. That was if the plan worked.

Sherlock slipped and slid toward the end of the hall where the treatment facility was and as he entered he found Celia standing by the three valves that released water. Sherlock ran a hand through his matted hair as he ran toward the yellow ladder and headed up. Upon reaching the top, he looked at Celia. "Alright, they're coming," he quickly said. "This plan, will it work?"

"I'm sixty-six point six percent sure," Celia nodded. Sherlock winced and was stopped when he heard the haunting moans of the Betas as they entered the treatment facility. Their drills were raised as they walked toward the center where it was indented to withhold water from escaping in the hall. Sherlock quickly turned the valves, releasing water into the center, the Betas unfazed. Then, with Celia to help countdown, Sherlock raised his gun toward the electric lines neatly tucked on the ceiling, protected by specially made rubber casings, and fired two shots. A bullet to break off the restraints that held up the wires to the ceiling and another bullet to cut through the protective casing, allowing water to touch the exposed wires as the wires freefall to the ground above the Betas. The wires were long enough to touch the pooling waters and the Betas shrilled in anguish as electricity began to course throughout their bodies. Sherlock shielded his eyes as the sparks began to fly and then some. The Betas began to spin around, throwing punches with their drill hands. Crashing noises as several fell to the ground while others still stood. Drills spun too fast, causing several to burn out. The remaining however, just added to the laundry list of problems. A Beta near pipes began to drill into them after being knocked into them by another. It combined with the electricity made things even worse.

"Utopia structure currently at fifty percent…!" Celia announced to Sherlock. Sherlock stared at her, "You said this would work!"

"I said it was a sixty-six point six percent _chance_ to work!" Celia reminded him. Sherlock looked down below to see the water rising, covering the few Betas standing. He then asked Celia "Is there any way of getting out of here?"

"Yes, emergency shaft!" Celia pointed up to the orange colored vent. Sherlock looked and nodded, "Perfect. How long can Utopia sustain itself?"

"Only four hours," Celia replied. "It has not been up to code for forty-six years."

"Ah, wonderful," Sherlock muttered as he quickly ran up the pipes to reach the vent. He then looked down to Celia, "Return to Beth and tell her that Utopia is falling apart."

"What about you?" Celia asked him. Sherlock chortled, "He says he's the bloody Doctor. But _I'm_ the bloody _detective_!"

He disappeared into the emergency shaft as Celia dematerialized.


	46. Chapter 39

Beth and Colton were heading toward the backroom when they felt the ground shake. Colton held onto Beth's waist and they stared at each other. "What was that?" Beth asked Colton. Colton chewed on his lips and shook his head. He answered, "I don't know, love."

Before them, Celia appeared with a distress look on her face. "Mama, Utopia's been damaged by the Betas!" Celia cried out. Colton stared at her and said, "What do you mean?"

"The Betas got loose in the treatment facility," Celia quickly explained as she looked around nervously. "Utopia is at fifty percent stability!"

Beth touched Colton's shoulder and asked him, "Frank, what are we going to do?"

Colton ran a hand through his hair as he thought about what they ought to do. He quickly looked at Celia and said to her, "How much time do we have before Utopia collapses?"

"Four hours," Celia replied. She stopped and glanced to the side for a brief moment before changing it. "Now three hours until Utopia reaches zero percent!"

"Frank," Beth urgently looked at Colton. Colton nodded and took a deep breath before he said, "Celia, keep track of the situation. Block off as many affected areas as you can and notify us as you do it. Tell us if anything happens."

Celia nodded before she dematerialized.

Beth turned to Colton and squeezed his hand. She asked him as she stared into his silver eyes with hers, "Frank, what are you going to do about them?"

"They made their choices," Colton said coldly. "They had their chance and they didn't take it."

"Frank," Beth tightened her grip. "For god sake, think about it!"

"Yo!" cried Leon as he and the others ran up to them. "The place is going down!"

"Celia informed us," Colton nodded. He then looked at them, "Did you check on the scientists?"

"Hey, our skins first," Leon raised his hands in defense. Joseph cringed as he asked Colton, "What are we going to do, Frank?"

Colton rubbed his chin as he quickly thought about what they should do. One stuck out in his mind, the scientists. He nodded and said, "We deal with the scientists now."

"Frank, this isn't the time to discuss politics," Callan waved his hand. Leon and Joseph nodded in agreement. Colton stared at them, "We have approximately three hours before Utopia is destroyed. The time to decide is now."

He led them toward where they kept the scientists to discover that the scientists were gone. Leon pointed, "Those two timing bastards! They probably got the Betas in on it!"

"Mother of god," Joseph looked at the empty area. "They wouldn't!"

"Jesus," Callan merely said.

Colton stared at the empty area and chewed on his lips, "They couldn't have gone far."

Beth tugged on his hand, "Frank, please."

Colton stopped and had a look on his face. It was peculiar but then he turned to Leon, "I dare say we have a rat in the house."

"Wait, what you mean?" Leon gestured. "What kind of rat?"

"You think someone helped them?" Callan looked at Colton. Joseph tilted his head, "The door was locked and none of them could pick a lock to save their life."

"There's a rat," Colton affirmed. "Where the rat is, so is our escapees, we look for the rat."

"Frank, this is no time to look for a damn rat!" Beth scorned him but he didn't break away from it. He turned to the others, "See to it that the rat is found."

"Three hours is plenty," Leon walked with Joseph and Callan out of the room. Beth stared at Frank and said to him, "Frank, why are you doing this. Is there nothing that can change your mind?"

"Beth, if we didn't do something, we'd never have peace," Frank explained to her. "Sofia would never let us go. She'd send her Zeta unit out to get us had it not been sabotaged."

"But Sofia's gone now," Beth eyed him. "The scientists haven't done anything to us now."

Colton took a deep breath and rubbed his eye. He frowned as he looked at her. He hated seeing her like this. Ever since the two joined, all he could think about was a place for him and her without fearing for their lives. He only wanted what was right. He chewed on his lip as he said, "Beth, what am I supposed to do?"

"Do what's right," Beth told him. "For god's sake, _do_ what's right!"

"Am I not doing what's right, coming back here against myself? Trying hard to find a home for us where we can be happy and free from those _damn_ parasites? Doing what I should've done a long time ago?" Colton said exasperated as he looked around the room with his arms held out. He lowered them to his side and rubbed his eyes. He chewed on his lips as he looked at Beth, "What am I supposed to do when all I can think about is the pain?"

"Frank," Beth lightly touched his arm. She rested her head against his shoulder and rubbed his shoulder as she said softly, "You have to do what's right."

"What _is_ right?" Colton questioned. He took a glance to the ground. He looked up to Beth and said, "I want you to leave the moment there's a breach. No questions, no fights, none of that. I want you to go to Bristol as planned. Understand?"

Beth frowned and slowly nodded. She replied, "And I will never forgive you if anything happens, you hear me?"

"I know," Colton sighed. He stopped and glanced at the door before turning back to her. "I love you, with all my heart and soul, I love you Beth Ottoman."

"And I love you, Frank Colton," Beth planted a firm kiss on his lips. Colton wrapped an arm around her waist as they embraced. When he pulled away, he used his finger to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as he said, "I have to find out who did this. Don't do anything rash."

"Only if you don't," Beth replied. Colton exited the room and left Beth alone. The moment he exited through the door, Beth chewed on her lips. She glimpsed to her stomach as she gently rested a hand on it.


	47. Chapter 40

"Doctor, what's going on?" the scientists looked at him. The Doctor was at a loss himself. He went to the console of the TARDIS and saw that there was a breach and Utopia was slowly losing stability. Within a short few hours, it would be destabilized and the weight of the building pressure will crush the dome. The Doctor blinked, he had no idea what to say.

He was then pulled away from his thoughts when Celia appeared in the TARDIS, piggybacking. "Doctor, something went wrong," Celia told him. "The Betas breached Utopia!"

"Damn," the Doctor cursed as his mind raced. His mind fettered with thoughts, some with him and Sherlock and the others dying horribly. He spun around the TARDIS trying to come up with an idea. He had to be quick about it, no delaying. He had to save them all. There had to be a way, there was always a way. He had to do something.

"Celia," the Doctor looked at her. "Where's Frank?"

"In in the observatory," Celia said to him. The Doctor nodded, "I have to talk to him."

"But Doctor," cried one of the scientists. "He'll try to kill you!"

"I met him once before," the Doctor explained to them as he looked at each and every face. "I knew him when he was still Delta."

"Then you know how dangerous he is," another scientists pointed out. While this was true to an extent the Doctor couldn't be picky about how things worked. He had to talk to Frank one way or another. And it had to be now.

"I have to talk to him, man to man," the Doctor continued. "It's the only way for any of us to have a shot."

"Oh yeah, a shot, each in our heads," a scientist balked. He was scorned by the other scientists. The Doctor then asked them, "Did Sofia have a failsafe implemented?"

"Well, of course, for the event the Cybermen invaded," one of the scientists mentioned. Another quickly piped up with, "But it could only be tripped by Sofia herself."

"Wait a minute," a scientist quickly blinked. "That Whore of Babylon! She set us up!"

"What?" the scientists looked at him confusingly. He nodded as he rapidly said, "She wanted us to be captured!"

"Oh my god, she set us up!" the scientists cried out. The Doctor looked at them, confused. He asked them, "What are you talking about?"

"We were hidden, Doctor, far from the eyes of the law and them. Then suddenly, we were all caroled like cattle by the Subjects and brought here, Sofia too. Sofia wanted us all here," the scientist explained. "She must've of tripped the security measure before she and Emma were taken."

"Oh my god," the scientists murmured. "She wanted us dead, why?"

"A cover up, perhaps," the Doctor gestured. He then remembered the audio tapes he and Sherlock found prior. Given the timestamp and everything that happened, he shuddered when he realized a horrible fact. Sofia truly didn't care. She purposely let Emma's body be taken by Beth just so she could trip the measure. She wanted this. She wanted them all dead. Guilt wasn't something the Doctor wanted to say, but the fact was, Sofia was truly a despicable being. "She wanted to kill you all."

"Why would she want us dead now?" a scientist cried out. "We were in hiding for decades; we didn't say anything to anyone about what happened here."

"No, because of the escape," the Doctor whispered as the color drained from his face. "She knew eventually they'd come back here and knew they'd be looking for you."

"So you're saying Sofia planned this from the start?" a scientist croaked. The Doctor nodded and the scientists began to huddle close together. The Doctor could tell they were scared and confused. Sofia was their employer and suddenly it all started making sense that in the ugly end, the Subjects weren't the real enemies after all. Sofia in life was a cruel woman and in death she planned to take everyone who had knowledge of Utopia with her. They now had no other choice but to listen to the Doctor.

"I need to talk to Frank," the Doctor said to them. "And I need you to trust me. I need to talk to him and get this worked out. Please, trust me, I'm the Doctor."

The scientists agreed and the Doctor looked at Celia, "What's the status?"

"The breach has flooded the treatment facility," Celia answered. The Doctor nodded before asking, "What about Sherlock?"

"He escaped through the emergency shaft," Celia continued. The Doctor sighed and slowly nodded. He said to her, "Alright, keep a close eye on things."

He looked at the scientists before saying, "Wish me luck."

The Doctor wished the same for Sherlock.


	48. Chapter 41

Sherlock was used to being shot, stabbed, almost poisoned, almost hung, strangled, drowned, buried alive, electrocuted, burned, bitten, stung, smacked, punched, kicked, oh so many ways for a man like him to be hurt. While it seemed maddening that a man would continue his career as a for-hire detective despite these apparent things, many forget just how Sherlock was. As long as he had the means and people to call on, Sherlock wasn't going to be deterred from his work just because the latest case almost had him killed.

Now, he might have to rethink his position when he got out of Utopia.

He was trying to find his way back to the Doctor but ended up in the arms of three angry men: Joseph, Leon, and Callan. They dragged him by the shirt toward one of the storage rooms and had been grilling him for information. While Sherlock was used to being the punching bag, these men were not the usual goons Sherlock usually encountered. They were strong, stronger than any men Sherlock knew, and they weren't going to take his word. Apparently, Sofia had a long network of those who she could send to do her bidding and they think he's one of them.

For a bit it was Callan who interrogated and he didn't flinch when Sherlock sucker punched him. Callan returned the favor and Sherlock got a nasty bruise on his jawline as he fell to the ground. Then Joseph's turn came and the musclebound man wasn't kidding when he mentioned being on his school's wrestling team. For the last hour it had been Leon and he was the more violate one of the three.

"Who are you working for?" Leon demanded from him as he was on the ground writhing in pain from being punched in the gut. For a skinny man like Leon, he punched like a professional. "You're already dead; buddy, so save your "I don't know what you're talking about" shtick!"

"I don't know," Sherlock wheezed as he tried to look up at Leon. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Look at this piece of work," Leon threw up his arms. He glanced at Joseph and pointed at him, "Can you believe this?"

"He sounds like a Londoner," Callan noticed. "But he could be from Nottingham."

Leon looked down at Sherlock. Sherlock looked at him. Leon shook his head. He turned toward Callan and asked, "Who do we know has the means to get a schmuck from London to do their dirty business?"

"Lambert comes to mind, but she rarely uses grunts," Callan shrugged. Joseph beside him raised a finger, "He probably got paid off by Cory."

"Ah that prick can't even write his own name," Leon swatted. He turned back to Sherlock. "He's probably Joey's goon."

"I am nobody's goon," Sherlock protested. He was met with a quick kick to the gut again. He heard Leon saying, "That's what they all say!"

"You sure he knows anything?" Joseph crossed his arms. "He could just be one of those for-hire idiots that get a target and the means but never the whole story."

"That suit isn't cheap," Callan pointed out. "Either he's well off or stole it from somebody's closet."

Sherlock gritted his teeth as he tried to say the words, "I wasn't hired."

"And I'm Princess Diana!" spat Leon as he waved his hand as he looked down on Sherlock writhing in pain. Sherlock eyed him crossly as he said, "Prince Charles!"

"Ha, this boy here got a sense of humor," Leon swatted the air. He looked back at the two. "He's too well off to be hired. I say he's one of those weasels looking to profit, hey you profit off of people's pain and misery?"

Leon tapped Sherlock's side as Sherlock coughed, "No."

"Alright, so if you aren't for hire or some weasel then why the hell are you here?" Leon stared down at him. "Who the hell do you think you are causing trouble, huh?"

"I am Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock hissed at him. "I am not responsible."

"Sherlock Holmes?" Joseph blinked as he turned to Callan. "Is he serious?"

"Kick a man enough times and he'll tell you he did the Chicago Fires, but that don't make it so," Leon wagged his finger at them. He looked down to Sherlock. "And I bet he lives at 221B Baker Street with a little lady called Mrs. Hudson."

"I do," Sherlock sneered at him. He was met with another kick to the stomach. Sherlock grabbed his stomach as he coughed violently. "I can prove it!"

"Prove it, he says," Leon turned to Joseph and Callan as if he was telling a joke. He glimpsed to Sherlock trying to stand up and gently pushed him back down onto the ground with a foot. "Alright, prove it. If you are THE Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street that has a little lady called Mrs. Hudson, then surely you can tell us the answer to my riddle."

Sherlock eyed him, "What's your riddle?"

Leon chewed on his lips as he thought about the riddle. No one ever got it right, not even those who say they are supposed to be good at riddles. It came out of an old book Leon read back in his days in New York City, at the downtown library. It was in a nondescript book that nobody really glanced at or knew anything about. It was a compilation of short stories, poems, and interesting things indeed. The name of the book, Leon forgot, but this riddle stuck with him to this day since he read it from the book almost thirty years ago.

"Okay, answer me this: for why did the bell stop chiming?" Leon crossed his arms as he stepped back from Sherlock. Sherlock laid there slumped on the ground as he quickly thought about the riddle. He never heard this riddle before, ever. Even for a man with encyclopedia knowledge of everything from books to plants, Sherlock never heard this riddle. He quickly thought about the bell. If it was a church bell there was a myriad of reasons for it to ring. Weddings, mass, funerals, everything that would be reason for the church bells to be rung and then Sherlock's mind went into his youth.

Since it was a boring story with nothing noteworthy, Sherlock never told to anyone, not even to John. It was a family trip with him and Mycroft with their family in Cheshire. They stopped at a town where the townspeople were doing reenactments of a civil dispute. A man had been caught with another's wife and the jilted husband demanded payment for the defilement of his wife. The payment was for the cheating heart to give the husband three goats and a sow. Of course, the cheating heart didn't have that kind of resources and so under the threat of execution, he had to be clever.

He decided that in order to pay the husband for the crime, he'd have to steal three goats and a sow.

In the end, the man was caught thieving and on top of being unable to pay the husband, he was to be executed for his crimes. He was hung the moment the church stopped chiming past 12:00 PM. He hung at noon!

"He hung at noon!" Sherlock cried just as Leon was about to serve him another kick to the stomach. Leon stopped just before his shoe reached Sherlock's stomach and pulled back. He was mystified, Sherlock could tell.

"What, he got it?" Joseph asked Leon. Callan crossed his arms. Leon turned toward them. Judging from their expressions, Sherlock got the answer in the nick of time.

"Okay, so, you're Sherlock Holmes," Leon gestured at him. "Then, why are you here?"

"I was going to tell you, but you been using me as a punching bag," Sherlock eyed him. Leon raised his hands in defense. "Well shit, you expect us to know it's you? Any boob can claim he's Sherlock Holmes," Leon exhaled as he tried to understand what was told. Callan gestured to Leon, "Well, now we know. We got any shots left?"

"Uh, I think they left some in the kits," Leon shrugged. Joseph raised his hand up. He said, "I'll get one."

He disappeared out into the hall and left Leon and Callan with Sherlock trying to look up at them. Sherlock tried to say, "Shot, shot of what?"

"Oh uh, it's a shot that uh the scientists used to use when we, uh, got agitated with them and tried to make them kababs," Leon poorly explained the shot. The shot was a needle with red substance that was not Amber but something else. It could heal anything in anyone no matter the severity of it all. While there were limits, the shot would heal Sherlock's bruised abdomen and cracked ribs in an instant.

Joseph returned with a needle in hand and Leon took it into his. He looked down to Sherlock and Sherlock looked back. "I'm going to give you the shot, alright, don't be surprised if you feel like you have been hit by a car."

Sherlock could only watch as Leon raised his sleeve and stick the needle through the skin and into his vein.

Sherlock felt his gut wrench and he let out a groan as he writhed. He heard Leon, "Yeah, I'm told it hurts."

"Of course it hurts," Sherlock hissed as he clenched his teeth. It felt like his stomach was puffing up with air like a balloon and he felt his kidneys jiggle and turn. Leon wasn't kidding when he said that Sherlock would feel like he had been hit by a car.

As Sherlock subconsciously closed his eyes as he writhed, he heard footsteps enter and overheard Beth. "My god, what have you done to him?"

Sherlock's mind wondered what happened to the Doctor.


	49. Chapter 42

The Doctor wasn't a professional negotiator. He had spoken to some of his enemies face to face several times before. Though some of his enemies were still inclined to betray him and some weren't keen on dealing with their enemy, the Doctor managed to talk to the few who would listen. The Doctor had a very short list of enemies who took the time to listen to him and several lists made of enemies who were only interested in their own prospects and of course, killing or enslaving him. It was something someone would expect if they were the Doctor. And for the Doctor, it was normal to him. Some say years of traveling in his little blue police box did that to him while others say it was one of the Doctor's permanent traits. He endured the betrayal done to him by those he thought he knew and those he didn't.

This will be a test, though. A test whether or not the Doctor could strike a peace between the scientists and the Alphas. While some argue the Doctor could've easily just taken the scientists and Sherlock away from the destruction of Utopia and left the Alphas to their fate, few ever knew the Doctor personally. Certainly, it crossed his mind when it came to the likes of the Daleks and Cybermen, but even the Doctor wasn't that type of person. But the Doctor wasn't dealing with them now, no, he was dealing with those who endured decades of pain and misery and the people who caused it. Though the Doctor agreed that stealing bodies was horrible, even he couldn't deny that wasn't the worst to come out of this.

The Doctor's two hearts were beating against each other as he walked along the quiet path to the observatory. It took time for him to realize that it was only him walking and his mind had been playing tricks on him. In his mind though, he was afraid of what would happen when he and Frank finally speak after what feels like years. Some scenarios presented themselves and that Frank would be agreeable to the Doctor's pleas while others pictured Frank becoming violent with the Doctor. The Doctor prayed for the latter.

He stopped at the large rounded door and stood in front of it. Behind this door was Frank. Frank doesn't know that the Doctor and Sherlock came to Utopia. And so far as the Doctor knew, he didn't know that they were working with Beth. The Doctor cleared his throat and pressed the only button on the side of the door. The door split into two halves as it opened and the Doctor entered.

The observatory was a large room, as wide as two Oval Offices and long as a four rugby fields. At the end of the room was a long and wide two-way glass that overlooked an area where people were brought down and converted. The Doctor's eyes moved around the room until he spotted a figure in the center of the glass looking down into an area. It was Frank.

The Doctor tried to calm his hearts as he walked slowly toward Frank. He tried to parse sentences together as he took every step. Why he was here, why Sherlock was with him, what they were here for, all those sentences were forming and the Doctor hoped to get them out in a timely matter that would be enough to give him time to plea with Frank.

He stopped short of Frank and cleared his throat. He said slowly, "Frank."

Colton's ear cocked as he turned his head slightly toward the Doctor. His silver eyes met the Doctor's eyes and narrowed as he said, "Doctor."

"I thought you were dead," the Doctor pointed. Colton waved a hand as he said, "I was dead, Doctor, but not now."

"I mourned for you," the Doctor continued. Colton scoffed as he replied with, "You needn't mourn."

"Whose body did you steal?" the Doctor watched Colton turn back to the Doctor. He said to the Doctor, "The only other loose end."

"Grissom, you stole his body?" the Doctor stood there. Colton nodded as he said, "He had every opportunity to help us and he didn't do so. He took his money like a greedy pig he was so yes, I took his body. But that's for the ethics class. Why are you here?"

"I came here because someone was asking for help," the Doctor recounted. Colton tilted his head and frowned, "Who'd ask help?"

"The scientists, namely," the Doctor eyed Colton. Colton stared at him as he said, "Do you know what they did to us to make us the Alphas, Doctor?"

He gestured for the Doctor to stand beside him. The Doctor stood beside Colton as he pointed to the area below the glass. The Doctor's eyes moved around, it was equipment that he never seen before. It was akin to an assembly line with hoses and tubes running along equipment. "We were turned here, Doctor," he heard Colton. "It was a pain that felt like death."

"This was where you were converted?" the Doctor looked up to Colton. Colton nodded. "They brought us down there. We were so drugged we couldn't fight. They stuck us in that device there and went on their merry way to watch us," Colton pointed to the device that looked like the iron maiden. The Doctor's eyes widened when he visualized the way it worked in his mind. Colton said to him, "We didn't die then, Doctor. Amber kept us alive long enough for us to become what you saw."

"Why they do it?" the Doctor looked at him. Colton shrugged, "Fear does things to a man, Doctor. I thought a man like you would know that. The Cybermen in this universe are far aggressive than the ones you come across. Logically, it would seem the only way for anyone to do anything was to be as aggressive as them. We know what happened then, don't we?"

"So, what about the kidnappings?" the Doctor continued. Colton answered, "The Cybermen was doing the same thing, Doctor. They themselves gone into other universes to collect those unfortunate to keep their numbers up, we neither clean in this, Doctor."

"I didn't know the Cybermen were doing it, too," the Doctor flinched. Colton shrugged as he said, "What one expects is likely to not be the case, Doctor."

"Why not use prisoners, use captured Cybermen, why take innocent people?" the Doctor's blood started to boil. Colton continued, "Because Doctor, even in this universe, prisoners have rights. Apparently, they didn't want to be branded as harshly as the Cybermen are so they decided to take a page from the Cybermen's handbook and took "volunteers" from other universes. And just before you ask me about volunteers here, no one wants to risk a viable soldier for a science project."

"My god," the Doctor only said. "As for the Cybermen, it was too dangerous. The Cybermen have a beacon in their heads and if they are out of range they can simply ping themselves to their leader and thus neither so alone in their patrols as you think. Unfortunately, the Cybermen cannot be easily contained as we were and is just as dangerous as we are. They have bomb implants, Doctor, and they aren't hesitant to using it to obliterate platoons much less a project under the sea. So yes, Doctor, all options were considered and kidnapping was the only one that was viable. War is never that simple, you of all people should know that," Colton turned away from him to look down. "Even if it means killing an innocent child to help further the war efforts, a sad day in human history I'm sure."

"Why would Sofia do that to Ciri?" the Doctor slipped. Colton's silver eyes were dead in his as he said, "It's a scientist's best interest to know everything about their little pet project. And even if that pet project can horrifically maim a person into a giant monstrosity, a scientist isn't deterred from learning. Ciri's fate was sealed when Sofia had her taken down there and put into the device."

He then stepped near the Doctor, "And how did you know her name?"

"I told you before, I'm the Doctor," the Doctor said simply. He dared not bring Beth into this. It would be foolish if he did since his doubt Colton would believe that Beth would reach out to the likes of the Doctor. Colton's eyes narrowed on his has he stared at the Doctor. In his mind, he guessed the Doctor had been prodding where he shouldn't, suppose it was to be expected from the likes of the Doctor.

"Ciri didn't deserve it, Doctor," Colton said mournfully. "Callan never forgave Sofia for what she done."

"But Ciri's at rest now, you avenged her," the Doctor tried to plea with Colton. Colton looked to the ground briefly. "She was a sweet girl. Looked just like her mother, Callan said, now they both look down from the skies above," he sighed. "God rest their souls."

"Frank, look me in the eye and tell me that the only way to live is to take the lives of the scientists," the Doctor eyed him. His eyes met with Colton's as Colton said, "They took lives of people, what difference would it make if I took theirs than if the Cybermen took them."

"Frank, you can't kill the scientists," the Doctor pointed at him. Colton balked at him, "They not as clean as you make them. They killed others before us."

"Isn't taking bodies enough?" the Doctor reasoned. "You killed Walker and took Grissom's body. You avenged Ciri. You don't have to do this!"

"Doctor, how big do you think Hal Corporation is?" Colton stared at the Doctor. The Doctor mulled over his question. He never did get those answers he needed and majority of information were wiped clean from records. The Doctor shook his head and admitted, "I don't know."

"It's quite big, Doctor. Far bigger than your UNIT I reckon, it's very big and has hands in all sorts of places, universes too. You think it as easy as stepping into another universe and taking a person?" Colton eyed him. The Doctor's blood cooled and turned to ice as he realized the implications before him. "You mean it's in other universes?" the Doctor quietly said. Colton nodded, "I wouldn't be surprised if you never heard of them until now, Doctor. Even they knew that it would be suicide to continue using the same name in each of the universe they occupy. Heed me Doctor, we're just a faction."

"This Hal isn't the original?" the Doctor held a hand over his stomach that was churning. Colton nodded. "Doctor, in every universe something changes. A corporation needs to adapt to each one in order to survive financially. It's the way business works, didn't you know," Colton sighed as he glanced at the tubes that would send currents of Amber into people in the device. "And of course before you ask, this faction is dealing with the Cybermen and relies on its associates in the other factions for support. Cybermen are quite methodical in their extermination efforts."

"So, where's the original?" the Doctor gestured. The answer to that made the Doctor cringed. "I asked that same question, Doctor. I looked and looked but I could never find my answer. I reckon that the original is far beyond all our own universes. Where is it, I wouldn't know. I wouldn't doubt it being clever though, much clever. I reckon if you were to encounter it though, Doctor, they might make you the next Subject," Colton looked back at him. "Of course, even you couldn't find it. Your little police box couldn't find it worth a damn I'm afraid."

"Do the scientists know?" the Doctor gestured. "If they don't, let them go."

"It isn't easy, Doctor," Colton tilted his head. "They done things to us that make even a Cybermen flinch."

"But you're free now," the Doctor argued. Colton responded with, "We neither free men, Doctor. We neither our own masters."

"But we are now," the Doctor continued. "You have Beth and the others, what more do you want?"

"Revenge, Doctor," Colton answered. The Doctor stared him down as he said, "Frank, for god sake listen. You don't have to kill them. They're past their prime; most of them have made amends. What do you get out of watching them die?"

"What am I supposed to do, Doctor?" Colton snapped at him as he chewed on his lips. The Doctor said, "Forgive."


	50. Chapter 43

Beth's mind raced with fevered thoughts. Her mind weighed heavily on the growing fears about the fate of the scientists. It didn't help that Celia had been keeping track of the breaches and to sum, Beth's plan of a peaceful talk seemed to fall apart.

Pulling back her hair she looked around for Leon and the others. She hoped to speak to them immediately. She could not wait any longer for the Doctor and Sherlock to turn up again. She had to tell Leon and the others the truth. Under duress of a second death, hopefully they'll listen this time. They had to know and when they finally see reason, Colton will have to listen.

Beth was heading toward one of the storage rooms, perhaps they were there, she reasoned. She would be right and she would be incensed later when she heard Sherlock, "Of course it hurts!"

"Oh god," Beth whispered. Sherlock had been found. Leon and the others, though reasonable when calm and collected were a force to be reckoned with when it came to such situations. Beth could only pray as she barged into the storage room. She saw lying on the floor withering in pain, Sherlock, holding his gut as his face was heavily bruised.

"My god, what have you done to him?" Beth cried out as she knelt beside Sherlock. Leon looked at her confusingly, "We thought he was a rat."

"We gave him a shot," Callan and Joseph mustered. Beth scorned them as she said, "He is not the rat!"

"Well, who is then?" she was looked at. Sherlock mustered some of his strength to look at her as she said simply, "I am."

"Wait, Beth. _You're_ the rat?" Leon pointed at her. To him it sounded like an oddball joke someone would tell during a stressful situation. Yet as he looked at Beth with her silver eyes leering into his, it wasn't a joke. "Okay, explain this to me, sister. We have god knows how many hours until Utopia goes bye-bye and you just _now_ decide to tell _us_ that you're the rat?"

Beth continued to leer at him as she said, "Leon, we have been blessed with a chance at a second life. The scientists don't deserve this; they have suffered enough from their nightmares. They have regretted this from ever happening. They don't need to die."

"And does Frankie know about the fact you went behind his and our backs to get Mr. Detective here?" Leon pointed at Sherlock. Beth shook her head, "No and I also enlisted the help of the Doctor."

"Beth, do you know what you're doing?" Joseph piped up as he glanced at Beth. Beth nodded. She said, "We were blinded by the Amber. We knew nothing but the pain we endured. Please, help me stop Frank from committing the most sinful act ever to be known by man."

"Too many people died," Callan agreed as he looked at them. He had lost his wife and his child. He had lost his humanity for what felt like centuries. The scientists had him kidnapped and Sofia murdered his daughter. But what well would it do for Callan to hold onto that pent up rage, what good would it do for his daughter and his wife to kill the now defenseless scientists. He had to agree with Beth. Too many died and what use would there be for more to die now.

Joseph nodded. He had lost his wife and children to his neighbor. He was the first to feel the effects of Amber. He saw what Amber did to anyone that came into contact with it. The ravens, the beetles, everything Amber touched caused terror for those concerned. Enough was enough. What good would it do now? The moment has passed. His daughters had grown up and his wife was now married to the bastard that put him in this situation. It was too late now. The only thing he can think to do was stop another mistake from happening. God willing would he allow another set of deaths to happen under his gaze?

"We're becoming the very things we've feared since we were turned," Joseph shook his head. He glanced at Sherlock as he was helped up by Beth. He realized then that he and the other two were for the past twenty minutes making Sherlock into a human punching bag. "We've already lost our humanity once. Why are we losing it again?"

Leon looked at them. His mind was fettered with the anguishing thoughts of being forced into the iron maiden and the Amber forcibly pumped through his veins as his body was compressed into a frame. He was being assembled like a Cyberman but unlike one he was fully aware of what was happening. Yet, his mind dwelled onto other things. He missed his mother. His mind dwelled on the fact that he was doing things that would make his mother disappointed. He was punching Sherlock like he was deadweight and almost killed him had he not solved his riddle. Joseph was right; they were becoming the things they feared. Monsters, without remorse or fear, no care in the world about consequences, just like the Cybermen that dwell on the surface.

Leon held the sides of his head as his paced around the room, "Okay fine. You got my attention. So killing them isn't going to make anything better. But what the hell's going on here. First we find a telegram from Sofia and find our way back here. Second here came you two. Third, now Utopia is about to go "pop"!"

Sherlock's mind quickly jumped at what Leon said. He said they found a telegram marked by Sofia. His mind was quickly piecing together the evidence it collaborated over the hours spent in Utopia. It then played itself. Sofia, the woman behind the Alpha Series and the misery that went on, planned it from the start. Sofia purposely allowed the Alphas to escape. In the confusion, Warden Ryan and several others were killed. They were the loose ends. Then, she waited until she heard about Colton being in Sherlock and John's universe before getting into contact with her political contacts. She wanted to incense them. She wanted them to come back. But before she would leave breadcrumbs for them to follow, she was going to deal with her other loose ends.

Sofia used the telegram to get some of the scientists to come back to Utopia under false pretenses. Given her prowess, Sofia left them to fend for themselves against the likes of the Betas and whatever else was lurking in Utopia. With the graffiti found around some of the wings, it wasn't long before it settled on Sherlock's mind. The scientists who willingly came back were killed and their bodies likely hidden. As for the scientists he and the Doctor were trying to save, they were the ones who wouldn't dare stick their necks out. Since they wouldn't come under their own volition, Sofia arranged for the Alphas to find her telegram with the coordinates to Utopia. She would then lead them to the remaining scientists and had her and her daughter captured.

It then dawned on Sherlock about Emma. Emma wasn't responsible for what happened; she was a young girl then. Yet, Sherlock remembered the love letters he and the Doctor found. Emma was the illegitimate daughter of Sofia and Andrew Ryan. And because of this, she was a loose end, too. This was why Sofia had her brought to Utopia too. It was also why Sofia didn't help her daughter from becoming Beth's new body. Sofia wanted this to happen. What better way to have a clear slate than to eliminate everyone tied to you in a fell swoop?

But then, why didn't Sofia escape alive?

The answer lies in the recording tapes found in her office. Sofia would take every opportunity that presented itself to set off the downfall of Utopia. She would escape Colton and the other's clutches with her daughter and head toward her office where she would set off the chain of events under the guise of sending help. Then, she and Emma would be caught again and here are where the tapes come in.

Sofia likely planned to feign distress when she and Emma were captured. Using Emma, Sofia extended time she had before she would make her escape. She put on a good show to make Colton and Beth think she was a good mother trying to fight for her daughter's life. She presumably figured she'd just deal with a minor headache from her head slamming against the table by Colton. When Colton and Beth left Sofia alone, she tried to make her grand escape.

The irony would come soon after. Colton's nasty head slam would've set off another chain of events. This time, the chain of events would occur in Sofia's own head. His unnatural strength from the Amber caused Sofia's brain to slam against the cranium and so it began to swell. It swelled until it could not swell no further and the fragile veins and flesh burst and so blood flooded her cranium. She died from a head injury induced by Colton's rage, Sherlock summed for those who weren't medically savvy as he was.

She died before she could make her escape and so her efforts were in vain.

"How are we going to convince Frankie," Leon gestured toward Beth and Sherlock. Beth chewed on her lip as she answered first, "I was going to pull this card but I couldn't. If I did too soon Frank would've killed them outright to protect me."

"What card is that?" Joseph asked her. Callan's brow rose. Sherlock looked at her. It then wrote itself before his very eyes.

"Beth, how many months are you?" Sherlock asked her. She answered, "Only three."

The reactions to the other three men were the same. Sherlock can't fault them for their reactions, even he was surprised.

"Okay, we got that going for us. But what about the scientists, how can we save them?" Joseph gestured toward Sherlock. Sherlock quickly reply, "I'll explain along the way. We can't dawdle around any longer."

"I agree," Beth nodded.

They would find Colton and with Sherlock's evidence that it was all a ploy and Beth's secret, they planned to convince him from committing what Sofia wanted.


	51. Chapter 44

"What about them?" the Doctor snapped. "What about Beth?"

Colton's silver eyes narrowed on the Doctor's as he stepped near the Doctor. "When I was a lad, I was taught that someday I was going to have to do something drastic. Even if I didn't want to do it no matter how I tried I was going to have to do it regardless. I didn't know what it was but I knew that I couldn't hide from it. Sometimes the worst possible thing to do is the best option there is. Today is that day, Doctor," Colton snapped back at him. "I have to do what is right. Even if that right means I have to kill."

"Is your love of Beth that far behind that you can't see what it's doing to her?" the Doctor scorned him. Colton stopped and chewed on his lips. He adored Beth. He loved her the moment they first met. As much a love story as Frankenstein as his wife, the two would've been inseparable if not for the control rods that kept them from each other. Suffice to say, without Beth, Colton might've turned out far worse than the Doctor imagined. How worse would he have been, it might've changed the narrative to the point where the Doctor was for helping the scientists _only_.

Colton frowned and looked to the ground. In his heart he was conflicted. His love of Beth and his hatred of the scientists who had taken everything from them, both fighting for permanent control of his heart and soul, no talks could stop them from tearing at each other. In his mind, he was only doing it for Beth. She was afraid. She was afraid that they would be found and brought back and forced into the confines of their chassis once again. And Colton struggled to keep her fears averted.

"If I don't do something, what's going to happen, Doctor?" Colton began as he paced around the room. "If I don't do something, it'll only be a matter of time before the other Hals catch on to what's happening and send their men to hunt us. I can't go back to that life, Doctor. Neither Beth or them deserve that fate again."

"You'll only exacerbate the problem, Frank," the Doctor responded. He watched as Colton stopped in front of him. The Doctor chewed on his lips as he tried to throw sentences together that would help his cause. "If you kill them and it gets out, they'll come after you. This time, there is no escape."

"And if I let the scientists go, who's to say that they won't turn around and point in our direction?" Colton looked at the Doctor for his answer. The Doctor remained calm as he continued to piece together sentences. He replied to Colton with, "They won't. Even they are deeply afraid. They want to go home, Frank. They want to go home and live out their days without fearing retribution from you and the Hals."

"Tell me, Doctor, what would you do in my position?" Colton eyed him. He chewed on his lips as he himself was coming up with sentences. The Doctor chewed on his lips as his eyes lowered to the ground, pondering his response. Colton watched as his eyes rose up to look at him as the Doctor answered. "They have made a mistake. You are right. But that doesn't justify killing them, Frank. Killing them will only make things worse and even you know that. I would let them live," the Doctor paced his words.

Colton sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He stopped and eyed the Doctor. "A man like you, who had lost everything, still willing to forgive those who have hurt you, my, I only wish there were more men like you here," Colton gave a light chuckle.

The Doctor nodded. He had lost a great deal even before he began his adventure some odd years ago. Gallifrey was lost to the Daleks, destroyed. His old friends from there had either died from the Daleks' incursion or had turned against him. The Doctor could never use the TARDIS to turn back the time and change that. It was a set point in time. No matter how he tried, he could not stop the incursion. And yet, somehow, through it the entirely of his life the Doctor managed to work through his grief by surrounding himself with companions. Though they were no Time Lords, those he recognized, the Doctor managed to connect with them to some degree. Alas, the Doctor was forced to realize another mistake.

His companions have been historically human and because of it, they adhered to a different standard from the Time Lords'. They didn't have two hearts like the Doctor. They also didn't live very long, some even managing to live past a hundred years. Unlike the Time Lords' with their thirteen regenerations, humans only had one life.

It might've been a hundred years in the future since their deaths, but even the Doctor couldn't help but remembering when his companions had managed to reach out to him for one final conversation.

Yes, the Doctor was plagued by heavy loses. Some personal and some that affected him even when it shouldn't. Even then, the Doctor still prevailed. How could a man who had lost everything still manage to have a will to go about his days?

Even if the Doctor couldn't catch a break, it didn't necessary mean he couldn't help others. After all, he wouldn't be called the Doctor if he didn't help those that needed it. That was another reason the Doctor first stolen his TARDIS, the red tape that the Time Lords' put in place to stop others from tampering with the fabric of time. The Time Lords' were content in merely observing disasters and other violent events in time. The Doctor sought to stop disasters that could've easily been prevented and stopped violent events that would have everlasting effect in the future.

It wasn't perfect, no. Even the Doctor was caught up in his urge to help. He learned the hard way when he tried to change an event to where everyone lived and the outcome was far worse than when it was before. The only way to get a decent outcome was for everyone but a lone survivor to die.

There was no black and white morality with time. There were several dozen shades of time. The only way for the Doctor to reach an acceptable outcome that wouldn't cause more harm than good was to look through them as shades of grey. Even if he wanted otherwise, the Doctor knew that time is fluid and will not adhere to meddling, good or bad.

In the end of the day, the Doctor was alone. His companions come and go. His enemies ever seem to grow as the years gone by. The only thing to ever remain consistent with the Doctor was his TARDIS.

"Sometimes, the only way to live, is by accepting that there are things you cannot simply change," the Doctor looked at Colton. Colton looked at him back. "I suppose you'd know," Colton nodded. The Doctor did so too. The Doctor gave a deep sigh as he glanced down to where the Subjects were made as he said, "I won't lie. I lost everything once. I was angry, alone, and self-loathing. But then, I came across a person. She didn't know me, of course, but she didn't seem to see me any different. We were being chased by Daleks and I lead her to my TARDIS. When we got there, she was aghast. She said to me, "You live in a phone booth?" and I nodded. We entered and she looked around. She was human, so she never saw one before. She looked at me with her jaw to the floor. After I explained to her what my TARDIS does as we escaped from the Daleks, she said to me, "You must have had adventures!" truthfully, I never had any adventures then. But when I told her that I never used my TARDIS like that, she was confused."

"I suppose it never occurred to you then what the TARDIS meant," Colton gave a nod. The Doctor slowly nodded and continued. "She never heard of the notion. She regaled stories about men and women having adventures using time travel. The thick of it all, they prevailed even when fate has them pressed to the wall. Afterward, suppose it got into my head what I should've been doing all along. I wanted to help people, yes, but then I realized that I'll burn myself out from all the horrors I'd witness. I was going to be in the TARDIS for a long time and even then it'll point me where I should head next. So, I decided on a whim, to have my first adventure. My first adventure with my first companion," the Doctor gave a warm smile.

"So, what happened?" Colton gestured. The Doctor's smile faded and in its place a mournful look took hold as he replied. "We had decades of adventure. But as the years gone by, I realized she wasn't like she used to be. She was getting older, less agile. She couldn't outrun our enemies anymore. I asked her why she couldn't regenerate like I can. She answered, "Because God only gives us one life." The notion! But, as her friend I had to understand. I decided to let her live out her final years somewhere safe. She died two years later of kidney failure. When I came back for the funeral, she willed me a sealed letter. In it, all it said was: Doctor, there will be days when you're angry at yourself. There will be days when you're angry at everyone else. But, never give up."

"My condolences," Colton mustered. The Doctor gave a heavy sigh as he wiped the tears that were forming under his eyes. When he finished he looked at Colton. "Don't become me, Frank. Don't become the person I was then. Arrogant, self-loathing, abhorrent, not able to look pass things even if you should," the Doctor gave a final plea to Colton.


	52. Chapter 45

"Doctor, you made your point," Colton raised a hand. "Suppose at the end of the day, there are things we cannot change."

"Good," the Doctor nodded. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Where are they, the scientists?" Colton asked. The Doctor answered, "In my TARDIS."

"Hm, suppose they can't cause any problems in it?" Colton continued. The Doctor gave a light chuckle. "No, even if they fiddled with every switch, the TARDIS won't go anywhere," he replied.

"Doctor!" called a voice. The Doctor turned his head. Barging into the observatory was Sherlock and the others. "Frankie, after some deliberation, we came to a unanimous vote," Leon took a deep breath. Callan nodded. "We were wrong to want to kill them, Frank. They suffered enough," Joseph added. Sherlock took a deep breath. He then explained to Colton, "Frank, Sofia wanted you all here. She wanted you to capture the scientists that she couldn't get. She wanted you to capture her."

"It's true, Frank, she wanted to kill everyone here," Beth nodded. She then added, "Even if she had to sacrifice her daughter to do it."

"She died only because of her head injury, but it was too late, she already set off the cascade," Sherlock huffed. Colton looked at them with wide eyes. His and theirs arch enemy, Sofia Lamb, used them to collect the rest of the scientists. Why else was it so easy to round her and everyone else up. She used her own daughter to get close enough to set off a trap. Now Colton understood everything.

"Everyone," Colton looked at Beth and the others. "The Doctor had convinced me to change my mind. The scientists are not our enemies anymore."

"Oh, Frank," Beth wrapped her arms around him, planting firm kisses. Colton embraced her and smiled. Leon looked around nervously, "Okay, that's out of the way. Let's get the hell out of here."

"I concur, Leon," Colton looked at him as Beth rested her head on his chest.

Sherlock met with the Doctor who gave a smile. The Doctor shrugged, "I'm not a professional negotiator. I just winged it."

"You should come help me solve some of my cases," Sherlock grinned. The Doctor chuckled. "Wouldn't be much of a Great Detective if you needed a bloke like me," he mustered. Sherlock smirked. "Well, what about John?" he asked. The Doctor replied, "He's your day planner from what I hear."

Celia appeared before them.

"Mama, the Betas have escaped the water treatment!" she cried out. Beth flinched. "What do you mean?" she asked. Celia explained, "Betas 45-50 are still active. They are coming here as we speak."

"Good god, I thought I had them!" Sherlock hissed. The Doctor looked at him. He said, "What happened?"

"Celia had me lure them through the water treatment facility. The idea was to electrocute them. I didn't expect any of them to still work," Sherlock groaned.

"Celia, where are they currently?" Colton stepped forward. Celia replied with, "They're attacking the barricades."

"The barricades were never meant to handle the Betas," Beth covered her mouth. Leon cursed under his breath. Joseph looked around nervously. Callan looked at the ground.

"Doctor, where is your TARDIS?" Colton looked at him. The Doctor replied, "Where you kept the scientists."

"Can't you bring it to us?" Beth asked. The Doctor grabbed for his trusty Sonic Screwdriver and hit the button. He waited for the TARDIS to materialize before them but it never came. The Doctor continuously hit the button, again, the TARDIS never showed. "I don't understand," the Doctor was baffled. Celia said to him, "The Betas are inferring with everything."

"How come they haven't interfered with you yet?" Sherlock asked. Celia replied, "Mama switched me to a remote location. They can't shut me off or interfere with my programming."

"Why haven't they done this before?" the Doctor wondered. Celia continued. "When Betas are attacked, the modules in their chest areas turn on, sending waves of interference. It was meant to keep any who attacked from escaping or contacting outside help, Cybermen _or_ human," she mournfully said.

"What happened to the control rod?" Joseph asked Sherlock. Sherlock sighed. "I dropped it," he said. Joseph cursed. Callan then said, "Not that it matters. Once they start to cause interference, they couldn't be controlled."

"Alright, alright, we can get through this, we're professionals," Leon paced around the room. He rubbed his forehead that was coated in sweat. "Ah, what's the plan?"

"The TARDIS can't come to us, so we have to come to it," the Doctor summed. Then Sherlock added, "We'll have to be sly to get to it."

Celia warned them, "The Betas have broken through the barricades. They're cutting the power!"

"Ah, Beth you gotta get to the TARDIS first!" Leon looked at her. "Celia, get her to the TARDIS!"

"Leo's right, you have to get to it!" Joseph nodded. Callan eyed her, "Beth, tell him."

"Tell me what?" Colton was confused. Beth looked up to him. "Frank, I've wanted to tell you. But these events have kept me from telling you. Frank, I'm pregnant."

Colton's face slowly changed. It changed to the only expression a man would have when he hears for the first time that he will become a father. Colton looked at Beth, his silver eyes looking up and down her figure. "You should've told me," he muttered. Beth chewed on her lips. "I know," she only said. Colton nodded. He said to Celia, "Celia, take her to the TARDIS as safely and quickly as you can. Then remain with her until we get there, understood?"

"Understood," Celia nodded. Beth hugged Colton. "Please, don't get hurt," she said to him. Colton chuckled, "It'll take more than a few Betas to hurt me."

Beth unraveled her arms from him and ran with Celia out of the observatory. Colton looked at the others. "When they're not attacked, they can't see shit in the darkness. When they've been attacked, then their night mode kicks in. Gentlemen, we have to tread carefully now," he said. The Doctor then said, "I can't use my Sonic Screwdriver with the interference. If there was a way to stop the broadcast, then I might be able to."

"I'm aware they're attracted to sounds, would a gunshot attract them?" Sherlock asked. Leon nodded. "Yeah, that was always their problem. They couldn't distinguish sounds worth a damn," he said to Sherlock. Callan said, "Human voices, machine sounds, it doesn't matter."

"They'll come when they hear anything," Joseph summed. Colton rubbed his chin as he added, "And with their alternative protocols, they'll kill whoever or whatever's making the sound."

Then the power had gone out. Not even the emergency lights came on. Pure darkness, they were in.

"Doctor, is it a good chance that the interference won't allow the TARDIS to operate?" Colton quickly asked. The Doctor pondered. It wouldn't be the first time. If his Sonic Screwdriver couldn't bring it to them, then it meant it wasn't going anywhere period. "We need to stop the Betas," the Doctor rubbed his nose. Leon then mentioned, "They'll find the TARDIS, Doc. They're going to check every room. And when they find the TARDIS, they'll attempt to either destroy it or brute force their way in."

"Then we'll have to be quick," Colton said. He glanced at the Doctor and Sherlock, "Got any plans?"

"We have plenty," they nodded. Colton then said, "Good, walk us through them."


	53. Chapter 46: The End

The Doctor went down this path before. It was something he had years of experience in. If there was one thing about the Doctor, it was that years of dealing with some of the most dangerous beings in the known universe helped him find ideas and ways to get out of trouble even how tight of a situation he was in. This particular situation was no different from ones that he dealt with in the past. The only difference however, there was a more pressing issue than realized.

With no power, the group relied on the flashlight Sherlock kept. As they slowly walked, they started hearing that horrible sound. The metallic groans echoed throughout the wards as the group remained frozen in place. The sound of thudding as the Betas walked down the stairs, groaning loudly as they reached the bottom.

The Doctor led the group into a utility closet, closing the door as Sherlock entered last. There they listened as the Betas began tearing into rooms and ripping apart anything, they perceived a threat. Quickly looking at Colton, the Doctor asked, "Do you know where the maintenance shafts are?"

Colton nodded, "Yes, there's one in here, the maintenance workers used it to get to the Main Area."

The Alphas helped locate the false door as they heard the Betas nearing their location. Opening the false door, they pooled into the tight quarters of the maintenance halls as Sherlock quickly closed the door.

As he did, the group heard the groans of the Betas as they tore into the utility closet, sending shelves of jars and boxes to the ground, spilling over the floor.

The Doctor ran up the hall with the others following. He stopped when he found a map of the maintenance halls. With Sherlock's flashlight lighting up the map, he read it. As he read it, he formulated a plan to draw the Betas to the Lower Ward, where the inner workings of Utopia lie.

Contained, the Betas had no way of escape.

How they will get them there, another plan entirely.

"Alright, here's what we'll do, we need to get them to the Lower Ward," the Doctor began as he looked at them. "We get them to the Lower Ward, lock them in, and using the thermoelectric generators we can electrocute them."

"The entrance to the Lower Ward is a lift, over here," Colton pointed on the map. "There's another lift you have taken, but the Betas won't follow.

"Lower Ward, that's an area they'd go, isn't it?" Sherlock looked at him.

Colton explained, "Yes, but after they went berserk, they closed down the lifts to prevent them from entering the Lower Ward. They won't go near the lifts until they're online."

"Workers came down to the Lower Ward for maintenance; they have a way down, don't they?" Sherlock inquired.

Colton nodded before a twinkle in his eye appeared. "They use a hand-crank generator," he said as he looked at them. "It's separate from the main power, so it doesn't trigger a response from the Betas."

"And that's what we do, come on," the Doctor motioned with his arm. As he did, they heard a ghastly noise and turned their heads. A drill hand tore through the wall as the Betas auditory systems caught their conversation.

As the Betas poured into the maintenance halls, the Doctor and the others ran toward the lifts. As they did, they avoided the drills that came through walls, the Betas attempting to kill them.

Sherlock ducked his head as one came over it, but as he dodged it, he let out a cry. Another came through the wall below and stabbed his side. Fortunately, for Sherlock, the drill hand caught on the pipes and unable to reach him further, leaving him with only a deep cut. As he checked while helped by Leon and Callan, it did not puncture any organ or vein.

Keeping pressure on his wound, Sherlock ran with the others as the Betas continued their assault. The Doctor tripped over the pipes underlying the ground, slamming against a wall. Groggily, looking around as he righted himself, the Doctor watched as the Betas tore apart the walls with their drills deafening his ears.

Colton and Joseph helped him up and struggled as they ran toward a steel door leading into the area with the first lift.

While Callan and Leon tended to Sherlock, Joseph and Colton tore down the door with their brute strength. In that time, using his sleeves and Leon's tie, Callan made gauze for Sherlock.

Just as they ran through the door, they heard pipes crushing under the Betas weight.

Hobbling toward the fuse box, the Doctor held up his Sonic Screwdriver. Concerned Colton asked, "Are you sure that'll work?"

"They can interfere with my Sonic Screwdriver all they want, but they can't stop it from working," the Doctor held on the button as the Sonic Screwdriver warbled. He prayed as the green light faltered.

"Um, guys, we have company," Leon pointed as they began to see the lights in the halls, mechanic groaning rattling the torn walls.

As the Sonic Screwdriver faltered, Colton told the Doctor to move as he tore out a live wire from the generator and stuck it into the fuse box. As he did, Callan pulled on the handle, sending currents of electricity to the fuse box.

The Doctor fumbled backward as the fuse box lit up, as it did the light over the lift lit up red. The lift door slid open, slowly, forced open by Colton and the others as they entered. As they entered the large lift, Colton pulled down the lever, sending the lift down.

The lift moaned as it lowered. Leon looked at them, scared. "Is it going to have enough power when we get back?"

"No," the Doctor flat out admitted to him. He then quickly said before Leon could respond, "However, I think it'll buy us time."

The Doctor turned his attention to Sherlock who leaned against Leon. "You're alright," the Doctor asked Sherlock. Sherlock grinned as he shook his head. He said to the Doctor, "Just dandy."

"I think they keep med shots down here, in case someone gets injured," Joseph mentioned as the lift came a halt at the bottom.

Running out of the lift, Colton and the Doctor ran to the second lift. Upon reaching it, they found the fuse box had just enough power, but faltered.

"Ever heard of the penny trick, Doctor?" Colton walked toward an area workers sat when they were on break and felt the ground; he picked up a penny and showed it to the Doctor. The Doctor nodded as Colton stuck the penny inside the fuse box, causing it hum loudly.

As it sparked, Leon stepped backwards, knocking into a cassette player left behind by one of the workers. It turned on and warbled as it played a song, the way it sounded; it came from the '80s.

"They took our lives. They took our souls. Our suffering fuels their greed as they rape our lands. They took our hands and our lands. They turned us mad, as they get a tad crazy. Their faces are gaunt and it haunts us all night long. These days of ours are gone, it all belongs to the men in black who come from lands afar. What is ours, they will take. Gonna hunt you down like the hounds, you are!"

The cassette blared as they watched the first lift coming down. Hurrying into the second lift as it opens, they listened to the music as the lift moves downward.

"Run to the hills. Run for your lives. Believe you are free. When the men in black come for you, praise Queen Anne, praise Her Highness, Queen Annalise Merovingian!"

The Betas hobbled toward the lift as one raised its drill hand and smashed the cassette until it no longer worked. One hobbled toward the fuse box and smashed its drill hand against it, destroying it.

The lift slammed against the bottom of the shaft, causing the men to collide against each other. Struggling to get up, the Doctor and Colton pried open the door, allowing them out into the deafeningly quiet halls of the Lower Ward.

Years ago, Betas came down to the Lower Ward to perform maintenance. They endured what human workers could not, however when their flaws were found, they were banned from the Lower Ward forever. Since no one could successfully reprogram the Betas, an alternative came to mind.

Since Betas were hardwired to recognize areas they belonged, the only way to keep them from the Lower Ward was to separate the first lift from the main grid.

With a generator and someone on guard, the Betas did not recognize the lift as online and no longer attempt to access it.

The second lift, powered by a secondary grid, remained safe from the Betas, as Betas will not go down lifts even if only one lift is offline. A security measure meant to keep them from becoming stuck in the lift.

Unfortunately, the Doctor and his cohorts opened a can of worm when they started both lifts. With them online, the Betas would follow their warped programming.

The air was stiff and arid; none of the men could properly breathe. Coughing as he held his mouth, the Doctor twisted and turned. He stopped when he smelt salt water. Pointing down the hall, he said, "They're down there, come on!"

Sherlock groaned as Leon held a hand over his wound, putting pressure on it as he helped Sherlock down the hall.

Joseph kicked down a door and rummaged through it. He brought out a med shot and looked at Sherlock. "It'll hurt like a bitch, but it's the only way to stop the bleeding," he warned Sherlock. Sherlock took it from him and injected the contents into his veins.

Nearly vomiting, Sherlock tossed the med shot aside and continued leaning on Leon as they continued to ran until they found a large cylinder door. Originally accommodating the Betas, Utopia retrofitted the door for the human workers. With a press of the button, the door slid up.

"It's held by magnets, if there's no power it'll raise," Joseph told the Doctor. "In case anyone got stuck in here during a power outage."

"We'll use it to our advantage," the Doctor motioned them to follow as they entered the thermoelectric area. The towering generators partially worked, however due to the damages caused by neglect and the Betas, their power faltered.

"Doctor, look, there's the valves," Sherlock pointed at the valves lining the wall. "If we stress the generators, it'll flood and electrocute them."

"There's no way we can turn all the valves in time, even then, that means we have to run out of here into the waiting arms of the Betas. Assuming we don't get electrocuted first," Leon shook his head, beads of sweat dripped from his hair.

"We won't have to," the Doctor stared at him. "They'll do it for us and we'll have time to escape."

"Even then, what about the door, it'll open the moment the Lower Ward loses power," Joseph pointed at the Doctor.

"Remember, lads, there's more ways to open cans then there are closing them," Colton looked at them.

Callan agreed as he said, "But there's always a way to close them, but sometimes they'll be messy."

The Doctor ran toward the valves and pondered. He smiled as he grabbed for a wrench laying nearby and started pounding on the pipes.

"Oi, come and get us!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. As he did, Colton led the others toward their positions, by the door.

The Doctor's two hearts beat against his chest as he heard rumbling. The Betas certainly heard him and they were coming, running, even. The moment the first three poked their heads through the doorway, the Doctor ran behind the generators.

Betas roared as they ran toward the valves, the moment the last ran in Callan and Leon helped Sherlock out of the doorway as Joseph ran behind. Colton stayed behind; his arm outreached and caught the Doctor as he fell into it. The Doctor corrected himself and Colton helped him close down the door. The door slid down just as the Betas begin drilling into the pipelines.

The water flowed as the Betas began attacking the generators, the electricity began flowing into the water, connecting with the soaked Betas as water rose. Several drilled into the walls, compromising the integrity of the Lower Ward.

The electricity flowed freely in the water and the Betas as they attacked each other and everything around them. Several slammed against the closed door as water pushed against it.

With the weight of the water building, the door that normally opened through magnets remained closed. However as electricity flowed, water leaked into the nooks and crannies of the door, frying the magnets.

By the time the door struggled to open, the Doctor and his cohorts were long gone, running toward the lift.

With the Betas destroyed, the Doctor attempted to use his Sonic Screwdriver on the lift. However, it did not work. The Doctor flinched when he quickly pressed on the Sonic Screwdrivers.

Leon and Joseph helped Sherlock into the lift as Colton stood by the Doctor. "Doctor, what's going on?" he asked. The Doctor looked at him, "My Sonic Screwdriver works, but it won't power the lift!"

Colton's eyes dashed around the area until he found their answer. A hand crank generator, obscured by the darkness, used in the event the power goes out. As a safety measure, the lifts reject outside power if theirs ever went out. The reason stemmed from fear the Betas turning on the lifts by themselves.

"Oh God," the Doctor's eyes widened as he followed Colton's eyes, before Colton could say anything, they were pushed into the lift and the door closing on them. As they turned around, they noticed standing in front of the glass, Callan.

Unable to open the door, they watched in horror as they heard the water in the distance.

Callan looked at them with his silver eyes glistening with tears forming under them. Colton shouted at him, "Damn it, Callan, what the hell are you doing?"

"Callan, come on man, don't do this," Leon pleaded with him.

"Jesus, Callan, what are you thinking?" Joseph pushed toward the front of the window.

The Doctor and Sherlock watched in horror as Callan begun cranking the lever, the rumbling sound of water booming in the distance.

"Callan, damn it, open the door!" Colton shouted at him.

Callan turned his head to them and smiled. He said finally, in a hushed tone. "Mates, I'm going to see them again," fresh tears ran down his face as he watched them pound on the door.

"Cal, don't do it, think about what you're doing!" Joseph screamed at the top of his lungs.

Leon hyperventilated as he watched Callan continue cranking the lever. His voice wavered as he shouted, "Cal, not like this, man. Come on!"

Their cries fell on deaf ears as doors suddenly burst with water, Callan cranked the lever for the final time, giving the lift enough power. The lift powered on, lights turning on and the only button illuminating, allowing everyone to watch as Callan stood in front of the door with a smile on his face.

Colton stood in front of the door as tears ran down his face. He raised his hand and placed his palm on the glass as Callan did the same. "I have been—and always shall be—your friend," Callan managed to say just as the water loomed over him. "You will always be my friend," Colton mustered, choking back tears. Callan slowly nodded.

The lift suddenly pulled up as the water made contact with the door.

Leon shouted Callan's name several times, but stopped when Joseph held him. Leon wept as Joseph allowed his tears to flow freely.

"Stupid, stupid," Colton angrily uttered as he punched the side of the lift.

The Doctor comforted him, "He saved us."

"He didn't have to die!" Colton stood in front him.

Sherlock pulled them apart and kept them away. He then said to Colton, "If he didn't do it, we'd all die. Don't waste his sacrifice on anger, Frank."

Colton let his tears roll down his face as he waddled through the lift. "He was our friend. He didn't deserve to die, not like that," his voice cracked.

"What do we do, now?" Leon mustered as he tried to look at the Doctor as his vision blurred from the tears. "What the hell do we do, now?"

"We get back to the TARDIS and get the hell out of here," the Doctor mustered. He turned to Sherlock as they exchanged looks.

Sherlock then asked, "Was there a way to save him, Doctor."

Tears ran down the Doctor's face as he shook his head. Death had always been something the Doctor wrangled with during his adventures; it had been a constant reminder of what the Doctor lost and the cruelness of the universe. Even if the Doctor could, changing events to stop someone's death, never worked out in the end. If a person, no matter their creed or salt, died then it is the doing of fate. Fate, so unkind, a concept the Doctor never grasped and never will, even if he wanted to, as it intended for him and others like him.

There was no way to save Callan. Even then, if not Callan, then someone else would have died. As the saying went, there was no changing fate without the consequences.

"No-no, there'd be no way," the Doctor mustered as he rubbed his eyes.

The lift reached to the top and with his Sonic Screwdriver, the Doctor called forth the TARDIS. The TARDIS slowly materialized before them as they ran up to it. The Doctor opened the door and they poured into the main area.

Upon storming into the TARDIS, the Doctor nearly tripped over himself as he ran toward the console.

He punched buttons, raised and lowered levers, until the TARDIS began to dematerialize. Just as the TARDIS faded from the holding cell, water burst through the walls and tore apart the remaining areas of Utopia.

The scientists watched from afar, as Beth almost knocked Colton down running into his arms. "Oh, my god, Frank," she wept into his arms. Her arms wrapped his waist tightly as they nuzzled each other. When she finally pulled away, she looked around, quizzically.

"Where's Callan?" Beth asked Colton. Colton chewed on his lips as his head lowered. Leon struggled to answer in his place.

"He-he didn't make it, Beth," Leon mournfully said to her. "The lift had no power."

"No, Callan," Beth mourned as she brought her hands to her face as tears flowed from her eyes.

Sherlock, taking deep breaths, walked toward the Doctor. The Doctor turned his head away from him as he allowed tears to roll down his cheeks.

"Why did he kill himself, Sherlock?" The Doctor asked him.

Sherlock glimpsed the Alphas mourning as the scientists remained where they were. He shook his head as he gave the Doctor his answer. "No amount of experiments could dull the withering pain of loss, Doctor," Sherlock frowned. "Some men hold decorum in the face of death, but some men can't remove what imprinted on their minds."

"He would've killed himself, anyway," the Doctor summed.

Sherlock slowly nodded, continuing to frown. "He was a broken man, Doctor," Sherlock's voice lowered. The Doctor did not deny the fact; he only regretted that it was the only fact.

Callan, bless his tormented soul, suffered at the hands of Sofia and the Corporation. His child died from a cruel experiment, his only relief came from an unexpected source. It was not enough, however, like the late Van Gogh; no amount of influence would have changed his mind. He would no sooner accept death than live a life without his daughter and his wife. His death was certain, one way or another.

The Doctor hung his head low. Sherlock rested a hand on his shoulder as comfort.

"So, what do we do now?" Leon looked at the other Alphas.

The Alphas looked at each other as Colton chewed on his lips. He finally said, "We live."

The Doctor turned around to face the scientists who once cowered in fear, look on in mourning. "Where will they go, Doctor?" Sherlock asked him. The Doctor looked down to his feet as he pondered that. He shook his head as he raised it. "I honestly don't know," the Doctor admitted.

Once the TARDIS came to a complete stop, they all poured out to find the TARDIS landed on a hillside near a town. This world had no Cybermen, no Daleks, no horrific threats that permitted other worlds; it was a normal world for them, one where they would find peace.

In a rare display, the scientists and the Alphas stood in front of each other.

"There are no excuses for what we done to you all," Colton began as he looked at the scientists. "We harmed you, beaten you, for what, lousy revenge that done nothing but hurt the people we care about?"

One of the scientists, Malcolm, walked up to Colton with a mournful look on his face. "There is no better excuse for us. We knowingly experimented, played with human lives; we were no different from the damned Cybermen. We were no blinder to our excess than the Cybermen. We pillaged and maimed our own people," Malcolm mournfully said, shaking his head. "We did nothing but harm, more than what the Cybermen capable of doing."

"There's no reason for our actions," Colton summed. Malcolm nodded, agreeing with him.

"We're sorry, for everything we've done to you. Even if an apology is nothing compared to what happened," Malcolm rubbed his eyes.

Colton shook his head. "The one thing the Cybermen can never replicate or upgrade, is humanity. Humanity has its flaws, but makes up for it with compassion and understanding, something the Cybermen will never attain," Colton asserted before them all.

Sherlock and the Doctor watch as the two held their hands outreached and shook each other's hands. Signifying the end of the feud between the scientists and the Alphas and thus began the start of peace.

"Where will you go now?" Malcolm asked Colton.

Colton smiled as he said, "Anyway the wind blows."

"Will we see each other again?" Malcolm sheepishly asked.

Colton shook his head. "Not in our lifetime, I'm afraid. We will live our lives far from yours, in a world where neither us known," he replied as he glanced to Beth walking toward him. She stood at his side as he wrapped his arm around his waist as she done the same. "What of you, where will you go?"

Malcolm looked toward the scientists who stared back, before he turned toward Colton. He replied with, "I suppose the same can be said for us, there's nothing for us now. We are too old, Mr. Colton, ever since that incident we barely had anything to our name. Suppose, this is much as retirement one can attain at this time."

They shared a laugh before they looked at the Doctor.

"I hate to bother, Doctor, but I was wondering if it were possible to take us to Manhattan, 2000s, preferably mid '00s," Malcolm raised a finger to the Doctor.

The Doctor nodded, "Of course, Dr. Malcolm."

Malcolm shook his head in disagreement. "No, preferably I rather be referred to as Mr. Malcolm now," he corrected the Doctor. The Doctor corrected with, "Which Manhattan, Mr. Malcolm?"

"Let's start with one without the Cybermen, for starters," Malcolm smiled, his sagging face pulling back.

The Doctor looked to Colton and asked him, "What about you?"

Colton shook his head as he said to the Doctor, stroking Beth's hair. "You don't need to worry about us, Doctor, we'll find our way," he said to him. The Doctor tilted his head at the statement. He then asked, "Will we see each other again?"

"I doubt it, you might stumble upon us, but you won't find us," Colton explained to him. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Doctor, but it's the way it is. You of all people should know this."

"What of Utopia, could anyone try to find it?" Sherlock stepped toward them as his scars glistened in the sunlight. Colton told him, "No, whatever remains, will just be ghost stories. Even if the Cybermen find their way down there, whatever remained from the explosion won't suffice their notions."

They exchanged their farewells before the scientists returned to the TARDIS as Colton and the Alphas waved goodbye, watching the TARDIS disappear.

The scientists found their new homes in Manhattan, New York, our world, April 21st, 2016. They assumed different identities with assistance from the Doctor, beginning their new lives.

Sherlock Holmes returned to his world, given a cover story for his injuries, softly playing a tune on his violin while gazing out the window of his flat. When Mycroft came to the flat, checking up on his little brother, for once in his entire life Sherlock was happy to see his brother, going far as hugging him. Mycroft listened to the elaborate story, noticing that Sherlock started tearing up, offered an arm and did not pry further.

The Doctor returned to his reclusive life. He fought against the Cybermen, the Dalek, the Weeping Angels, all enemies of his time. Yet, the Doctor continues to reflect on his life and the people in it, remembering those dead and gone. Even tearing up at his old friend, turned nemesis, the Master, who once played with him when they were children. One day, when a world did not need saving, the Doctor went to a world, buying flowers, and visiting the gravestone of his former companion.

As for the Alphas, as of this writing, no one has seen or heard from then since the Utopia Incident. Some speculate they live happily in another world, far from ours, where they found peace as they mourn over their fallen friend, Callan McDowell. A rumor surfaced a while back saying that Beth birthed a healthy boy, silver eyes like his parents, and Leon successfully courted a woman. As for Joseph, he became a pastor for a church, leading charge in the world of faith.

What little we know of the Alphas, they are hiding away in their slice of paradise, content at a life where they will never fear again.

One can argue both the Alphas and the scientists have blood on their hands. However, it can be said that in a rare event, both realized this and made amends for what they done. They will live with the constant memories of their actions, but seek to right the wrongs they made.

The work of Sofia Lamb remains where it belongs, at the bottom of the sea, where no human or Cybermen can find it. Lost and rightfully forgotten, it will erode until nothing is left, thus Sofia disappears into history.

Yet, as one remembers, though the end of the story has come, there is still one thing to remember.

Under a cloudy day, a murder of crows flocked to a cemetery, overlooking a headstone. Instead of cawing, they remained absolute silent.

Thunder from the west echoed in the area, the crows remained silent as they dispersed from the cemetery. As someone once said, a crow that does not caw is a crow of Lamb's.

Called in some literature, the Crows of Lamb, depictions varied but generally the same, with the difference being what part they took.

In this depiction, they are the reminders of a lunatic's desire for power and the pain and anguish. Though not evil like Sofia, whatever stories they hold, no one will know.

The End


End file.
